Blessed Be The Peacemakers
by The Fighting Irishman
Summary: All things considered, it's probably for the best. Jane got to be the Hero. I got to be the Villain. And I can live with that.
1. Prologue

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

 _I was twenty-six when my life changed forever. When I was thirty-one, my sister was killed._

 _Perhaps I should back up._

 _We were born to a pair of space-faring Alliance commanders, each of them stationed on their own ship. Hannah was mom, and Daniel was Dad. They didn't see each other as often as they liked; but they made the time that they had count. Shore leave, joint operations between their respective postings, convieniently synchronized sick days…they became something of a running joke amongst their colleagues in space. "Some people juggle work around their lives. Only the Shepards do it the other way around." They used to say things like that. Never bothered either mom or dad: they were the ones in love, and the rest of the Alliance could stick it as far as they were concerned. They were in love, and that was all that mattered._

 _As a result, I guess Sis and I picked up a similar mindset: as long as you made the time you had together count, then that was what mattered. She and I rotated between the ships growing up; sometimes I was with dad, and sometimes she was. Sometimes I was with mom, and then sometimes she was. Though as we got older, we gravitated. I tended to be with dad more often, and she tended to be with mom. Fair enough, I suppose. And no one really complained. I sure didn't. And neither did Sis._

 _I knew she was gonna be the one that the big-wigs would grow to love. She glided through her classes, and took to space life like a duck takes to water. She aced her exams; I grinded through them by sheer effort and luck. She got every recommendation in the world; I weighed my options and decided that the life of a commissioned officer just wasn't in the books. And yet she never made me feel like I'd "failed" because I hadn't hit her level. Of course, I always kicked her ass in the marksmanship tests, so I at least had that._

 _You could just see how much she loved the life of an officer. She was the smart one, after all. Dad and I joked that she took after the smart half of the family; it was best to keep the doofuses off to the side. In the meantime, I took a posting in the shock troopers. Just a regular grunt, and an NCO at best. I'd never have the same arc that Sis did, but that was ok._

 _Leading a ship isn't just about making the correct battle decisions: it's about juggling the politics and everything else involved. That's messy stuff. I prefer staying in the muck with my buddies, in a foxhole somewhere in a hellish planet where the flora might be just as dangerous as the inhabitants, cupping our hands over a lighter in order to sneak a smoke without giving away a position. There's a certain rush from that life that filing paperwork never really manages to satiate. Let Sis take care of that itch her own way; I'll deal with my own itches my own way._

 _I contented myself to a life of living on the edge, as the blue-collar to my sister's white collar. I could even see what my likely career arc would be: a career in the infantry, with a few promotions based on merit, and then towards the end I might get a graveyard promotion on my retirement because of my last name. I might get married; I might get divorced. Being a grunt is a hard life, after all. But I had my family, and that was good enough for me._

 _And then it all got taken away._

 _Turns out that, while all the other alien species in Council Space were suspicious about us squishy humans, only the Batarians had the balls or the craziness to do something about it. They ripped right through the Skyllian Verge, blasting through the lightly-defended posts and colonies like a hot knife through butter. They only took prisoners when convenient, and dealt with the rest how you expected them to. Racism is a hell of a motivator for creative killing, regardless of who's the perpetrator and who's the victim._

 _Well, in the middle of their preemptive strike, those four-eyed bastards went and made the two biggest mistakes of their lives._

 _The first was trying to take Elysium._

 _You know how that one went. And yet, still, I got a lot of mileage out of asking Sis what it was like to save an entire colony single-handedly with only a few civvie guns (that got overrun or injured or killed quickly)…in her pajamas. You think I'm joking, but the Alliance bean counter had to look through the glossary of military terms to find a more "dignified" description of what Sis was wearing. He settled for "non-combat fatigues." That's got to be the most professional description for red flannel pajama and a panda bear t-shirt that I've ever seen in my life._

 _I sometimes wonder what the last thoughts of anyone she gunned down that day were, as they realized they were getting sent to their maker by a girl who looked like she'd been woken from a slumber party. That was a pretty funny mistake._

 _The second one wasn't so funny._

 _A little over a year after Elysium, a human outpost surrendered to the invading Batarians, with a gentleman's agreement between the commanding officer of the invading force and the garrison that no fire would be made on the retreating civvies, who were loaded into a single ship and to leave to spread the word of the attack. Relatively straightforward, I suppose. The combatants stay to fight to the end, and the civilians leave like they're supposed to._

 _Except as soon as the ship was in space, the Batarians opened fire. One ship up against a small fleet of cruisers, not even bothering to keep their shields up? You do the math. When it was brought to the attention of Council space, the Batarian Hegemony swore that they thought it was an enemy ship that was planning a suicidal attack, despite the fact that it was going in the opposite direction and the only guns it had were ones the passengers could've made with their fingers._

 _Also, the captain of that doomed ship? Daniel Shepard, husband of then-XO of the SSV Einstein Hannah Shepard, and father of two. Dad died doing what he did best: looking after people, and always believing in the angels of our better nature. Of course, pretty words don't mean a whole lot when the guy who taught you how to throw a baseball gets vaporized in the dead of space._

 _Nobody bought the Batarian story, least of all the Alliance. It got so bad that even the Turian Hierarchy privately contacted Alliance brass about helping organize a counter-attack, just to remind the Batarians what happens you commit what amounts to state-sponsored terrorism against another species. Considering the relatively frosty public relationship between Turians and humans at the time, none of this was "official." A few Turians, maybe even a few SPECTREs, provided some intelligence and weapons suggestions, as well as locations that would be worth striking for maximum psychological impact. Say what you will about Turians and their tendency to have a stick rammed up their backside, but they know how to fight. They schooled us in the First Contact war, after all. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise._

 _I was part of the major unit to be deployed at the location: a mining colony on a moon called Torfan. Nothing really nice about that place, but it was part of the Hegemony and it was considered just important enough to the Batarians that attacking it would scare the hell out of them. Not for the number of casualties, necessarily, but for the fact that there were a lot of dirty secrets buried in those mines that I imagine the top Batarian brass would prefer the rest of the galaxy not find. After providing as much intel and support as they could while still maintaining plausible deniability, the Turians pointed us in the general direction of Torfan and stepped back to watch the fireworks._

 _Mom and Sis weren't too happy that I'd been assigned as part of the strike team, and were even more annoyed that I was at the unit that'd be spearheading the operation. I was the second in command to the leader, a Major Benjamin Kyle. Nice guy, but definitely not the right person to lead this kind of op. He was the sort who got promoted because he was great at toeing the line and filing paperwork, but his fieldwork tests were just average at best. And true enough; at the first sight of how stiff the Batarian resistance was, he clammed up. Official reports list it as a nervous breakdown on the battlefield, but anyone who was there would put it a little differently. Perhaps a lot less politely._

 _Of course, with him out of commission, that left you know who to pick up the pieces._

 _I shouldn't have been thinking of him, but all I could think of when I announced myself as the interim leader of the raid was the fact that those four-eyed freaks had taken my father from me. And I intended to make them all howl._

 _Someone had to get their hands dirty, after all._

 _When it was all over, there was barely enough space on the ground to cover the bodies from both sides. Alliance brass dithered over whether to award me a medal for taking command when my CO faltered, or to give me a court martial for the actions I'd taken once I'd gotten it in order to drive out the enemy and let the Batarians know they'd messed with the wrong species. With the wrong man. With the wrong Shepard._

 _In the end, they did nothing. Can't blame them; that'd be a helluva awkward precedent to set. They settled for letting me quietly discharge from the armed services, and I just packed up and left. Told Mom it was something about finding myself, or some garbage like that. Didn't listen to her pleas that I see a shrink; maybe she was right, but it's too late now. I guess. I figured it'd be better to just disappear._

 _Well, I might've avoided the court martial, but I didn't avoid the court of public opinion. The last major extranet vid I read before leaving was on the news of the Torfan attack, and the nice little moniker they bestowed upon me._

 _The Butcher of Torfan._

 _In a way, I guess it makes sense in the end. There's always gotta be two sides to everything. There's light and there's dark. And, all things considered, it's probably for the best._

 _Jane got to be the Hero._

 _I got to be the Villain._

 _I can live with that._

 _I was twenty-six when I boarded that shuttle to who-knows-where-just-not-here, with barely a goodbye. Five years later I found out that she was dead._

 _It should've been me._

 _Goddamn it, it should have been me._

 _I settled, if you can call it that, in the worst part of the Terminus Systems. The blight of the galaxy. Omega. As far away from the Citadel and its bullshit shine and gleam as I can get. I'd been there about a year or two before I heard the news. When I heard, I decided that if the angel of my better nature was dead then I really had nothing left to live for. Jane shouldn't be gone. I should. And it gnawed and gnawed at me until I couldn't take it anymore. So I did what I always did when I saw a problem: I faced it head-on._

 _So, one night, about two years after I heard that the hero of the Eden Prime Geth War was dead, I sat down at the table of my little hole in the wall apartment and made myself a deal. The last bottle of liquor in my possession was sitting there on the table. Either I finished it off or it finished me._

 _And that, on that rotten and miserable and hellish night, is where my story begins…_

A/N: Hope you enjoy. For your reading enjoyment, the voice of Shepard's sibling (name not yet revealed) is that of Kiefer Sutherland's performance as Venom Snake from _Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain._ Imagine that tired, weary voice, and you have our main character.


	2. The Man in the Black Hat

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

Alcohol on Omega was never good. It ranged from undrinkable sludge to downright poisonous depending on who was your bartender, and whether he had a grudge against you for not paying off your tab on time. The best stuff for humans came from whatever smuggled goods the Blue Suns, Eclipse, or any other merc group had with them, provided one paid them enough to overlook the fact that some of their supply was getting skimmed off the top. Naturally, they overcharged, especially if the buyer was one of the poor wretches that lived in the lower levels of the station.

Because aside from death and taxes, the one constant in the galaxy is mercenaries and a greedy streak.

 _I can afford it, seeing as how I don't spend much money on much of anything else._

He leaned back in his chair, the wood squeaking in protest. It was an old piece of junk he'd salvaged out of a dumpster when he'd first gotten on the station, shortly after he'd found a small little one-room apartment. It was like a rat crawling into a hole in the wall, but at least he had a ceiling over his head. That was more than most got on this godforsaken station.

The empty bottle of vodka lay on the table, rolling back and forth on its side like a metronome. His head was spinning, thoughts swimming between bad times and worse. Veins throbbing in his forehead. He was going to have the mother of all hangovers the following morning, that was for sure. A pistol, a beaten and worn M-3 Predator, lay in his lap. He hadn't loaded it. He'd just kept it there. For motivation.

Groaning, he staggered to his feet. He put a hand to his forehead.

Upon which he doubled over and vomited all over the floor.

As he lay there, the smell of alcohol and vomit and god knows whatever else seeped into the walls and floors of his "home" and this godforsaken station, he wondered if he'd indeed hit rock bottom. In his heart, he knew he probably hadn't.

Or maybe he had. Either way, he'd finished the bottle, not the other way around. That had to be a step in the right direction.

Some time later, he managed to stagger back to his feet again, the painful throbbing of drunkenness subsiding to a steady buzz. He walked over to the little suitcase that he kept essentials in, a piece of garbage leather thing that had seen better decades, and popped a couple of stim pellets. Nothing too strong; he wasn't about to go fucking around in Afterlife, after all. But he wanted to be a little sharper than he was when he went out and about.

After all, he had to go to church.

…

It was a tiny little parish, roughly big enough to hold anywhere from 20 to 25 people. It wasn't a church so much as it was a conveniently steeple-shaped building that had been appropriated by the small human community that lived in the neighborhood. A little cross had been nailed on the door front, and a local girl had painted the scene of the Ascension on the wall behind the altar and the priest's pulpit. It was a rather impressive piece of art, all things considered. Slightly dreamy and ethereal, with a surprisingly life-like look to those in the mural. It might be the prettiest thing on the entire station, and the majority of the place would never know that it existed.

He sat in the very back corner pew, an arm slung over the backrest and one leg crossed over the other. He kept his Predator holstered, out of respect for the atmosphere of the place. When he'd first arrived, the parishioners had stared somewhat fearfully at his weapon, but when he'd made no moves against them they came to accept him as another part of the community. Every now and then an alien or two might poke their head in the building to see what all the fuss was about. Most of them were one-time occurences, and soon they were off after having their fill of silly human spirituality. Some, however, stayed. Whether they believed in the things that the man in the vestments said was up for debate, but they seemed relaxed either way to be in a community that wasn't trying to kill them, like the rest of Omega's population.

And that's what it was, really. Just a couple of families and a few others struggling together in a little neighborhood project that was about a block and a half in length, with apartments and a few "houses" on both sides. Everyone knew each other, and even though they lived in a degree of squalor no one seemed to despair. They clung together desperately, and there was something he admired in that.

The priest had finished saying the closing prayer and blessing. He crossed himself, extending the blessing to the parish. And with a final "Thanks Be o God," the sermon was ended. The parishioners filed out the front door, some of them making eye contact with him and smiling. He smiled back as a courtesy, and gave a nod to others. But he didn't say anything back. They had him pegged as a relatively quiet one and he wasn't about to disabuse that notion.

"Rough night, son?"

He looked up and saw the priest standing over him.

Father Hidalgo was a short man, with a plump belly and a shiny bald head. He wore thick glasses, and tended to tug at his bushy red beard when he preached. He spoke in a noticeable accent; it was most likely Scottish, but he'd never asked the man. It seemed impossible that someone who seemed so…good was in a place as shitty as Omega, but then again he always liked to tell them that the Good Lord worked in mysterious ways, or something like that.

"A little bit, I suppose." He admitted. "Didn't sleep well."

"Confession might help." Father Hidalgo said with a cheeky grin, with the air of someone who already knows the respond headed his way. He was not disappointed.

"Father, I really appreciate the way you've welcomed me into your little community here, but I have to confess this: I just don't get the whole religion thing, really. I was never big on it growing up, and I'm trying to understand it, but I don't really feel comfortable laying all my problems on you. You aren't a psychologist, you know."

"I understand, laddie." Father Hidalgo nodded sagely. "Jus' know the door to th' booth is always open." He scratched his chin in thought. "Seemed like a good turn-out today, don't yeh think?"

"I'd agree. Even got a few of the new faces from last week to come back. Don't see too many Asari in a Catholic church, do you?"

Father Hidalgo chuckled.

"Not really, son. They seemed like they were open to listening, at least. Can't say they believe in it myself, though."

"How exactly does one reconcile the faith with the advent of life outside of earth?"

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, we aren't on earth, son. We're on Omega. And the best way to keep the faith is to preach the faith, not focusing on the little details and theological disputes."

"Awfully liberal of you, father."

Father Hidalgo snorted.

"Please. I don't care about that sort of thing. I care about helping my worshippers. It's like they say: The shepard must tend to his flock…" He trailed off, and let the young man in the pew finish for him.

"…And, at times, fend off the wolves."

 _That's my role, essentially. Someone has to be the 'line of defense' for the helpless, or however the line goes. Might as well be the scariest-looking one in the room, as well as the only one who knows how to shoot a gun. I doubt Father Hidalgo has even held a weapon before. It's okay: I can manage for the both of us._

…

"Father Hidalgo?"

The two men turned in the direction of the voice. It was one of the women who'd been at the service that night, and she'd brought her daughter with her.

"Ah, hello Diana dear." Father Hidalgo said, a warm smile on his face. "What can I do fer you?"

"I just wanted to say thank you for the wonderful sermon. Nef and I enjoyed it." She turned to her daughter, who smiled lightly.

"Best one in a while!" Nef said in a bit of a chipper voice.

 _I wouldn't have named my kid "Nef," but I get the feeling that it's short for something. "Stephanie," maybe. Don't know for sure. Haven't asked. She's the one who painted the mural on the wall of the church. Talented artist, that one. Though she's a bit of a shut-in. Painfully shy. I keep wondering if maybe she should make a few more friends. Get out more. But then again, I'm not her parent. And Diana seems to do a good enough job, as overwhelmed as she is._

"Thank you, child." Father Hidalgo said, bowing slightly in appreciation. "You always have one of the more noticeable voices in the songs. You have quite a voice, you know."

"Th-thank you, Father." Nef said. Diana smiled sweetly, and turned to the young man sitting in the pew.

"Mr. Holliday! You were actually just the man I was looking for." She said. Nef blushed furiously.

"H-he was, mom?"

"Ach, what're yeh askin' of ol' Doc here, Diana?"

 _As you can probably guess, "Doc Halladay" isn't my real name. It's just the first one I could think of when I stumbled into Omega and when I ran into Father Hidalgo, the first person on the station that didn't try to fight or kill me. Suitable cover name, I suppose. Also a bit of a history dump for anyone smart enough to research: Doc Holliday was an old gunslinger in the American Wild West. Highly unlikely that your average alien is well-versed in 19_ _th_ _century American history to recognize such an obvious pseudonym. But it goes even deeper than that: I sign my name on the church ledger as Doc H_ _ **a**_ _ll_ _ **a**_ _day, not H_ _ **o**_ _ll_ _ **i**_ day.

 _Because I'm really naming myself after an old baseball player that my dad said was real good. First game I ever watched was a recorded holovid, with terrible quality, of him pitching in the playoffs. Didn't give up a hit. Or a walk. Or anything, really. And even though he was dead long before I was born, I knew he was cool. He was my favorite player, and I never saw him play in real life._

 _Or maybe it was just because I was watching a game with my dad on one of his rare shore leaves. That was probably what made it the best day of my childhood._

"Well, I have noticed that when church is over, Mr. Holliday here always goes back to his place, and he's done so much for our little community that I think it's a right crime that he hasn't been rewarded back in some way."

"I just live here, ma'am." Doc said quietly. Diana shook her head.

"Please. It would be downright unhospitable if I didn't do something for you. Nef and I were having dinner later tonight, and we'd love to have you join us. Would you?"

 _I weighed my options. On one hand, I've never been a socialite. Making small talk wasn't my favorite thing in the Alliance, and it got even worse after Dad died. After I left the Citadel for the last time and during my drifting days, there might have been week-long periods where I said absolutely nothing. Just communication by grunts and the bare minimum of vocalization. But on the other hand, the look on Nef's face right now is somewhere between hopeful kitten and frighteningly embarrassed teenager. Might be funny to push her buttons._

"That would be lovely." Doc said. "When?"

"How about in an hour and a half?" Diana asked. "That would give me time to finish dinner, and you time to take your walk." She said with a smile. Doc nodded.

"Sounds good. I'll see you then."

…

Omega doesn't really have weather, and it doesn't really have wind. The closest one got to the latter as whenever the life support fans needed to filter. Some of the backdraft that came from those mighty turbines could be a little cool, though the smell wasn't always the greatest. Every now and then gunshots could be heard in the distance, echoing off of the walls and systems like distant firecrackers. Faraway sounds of debauchery and violence and general unrest. The Queen of Omega, Aria T'Loak, really had a lot to answer for about the standard of life on this place.

Of course, this was under the assumption that she gave a fuck to begin with.

He hobbled through the street, whistling a little nursery rhyme tune through his puckered lips. Something about a farmer in a dell, whatever that was. He'd never really paid much attention to Earth history about little things like that. Every couple of steps, he thought he felt a brief little stab of pain in his knee, and he tried his best to ignore it.

 _Somewhere down the line my knee decided to tell the rest of my body to get bent. I don't even know what happened, if it was all at once or a long process of degeneration. I sure lived a rough life after leaving the Alliance. Either way, I was thankful for the knee brace that had been given to me by that one Salarian doctor, Solus or something or other. It fit under my jeans and other pants well enough, and if I felt like playing make-believe I could pretend thatI was a football player, because that's the kind of brace it was. Still, it meant I wasn't about to win any marathons any time soon. The Doc had offered to operate on me whenever I wanted to, and even said he'd do it free of charge. I told him I'd get around to it. That's what I told him and his staffers every time I stopped by for a run of medication or errands for the others in the neighborhood._

He thought he heard something off in one of the alleys, and tensed. Slowly, he drew his pistol out of the holster, and flicked the safety off while he kept the weapon close to his hip. He wasn't a bad hip-firer. The leg injury had affected his balance, and pretty much took away any hope of using a heavy rifle. Pistols and side arms were the only weapons that didn't feel like they wanted to rip apart his leg.

Eventually, the noises continued, and he relaxed. It was just a wild varren, gnawing on some trash in the back. Still, those things were pretty damn feral, and there was no need for it to go and eat one of the locals out late.

He squinted one eye shut, and raised his gun and fired.

…

"I wish I could shoot a gun like you can, Mr. Holliday." Nef twirled the noodles around her fork, looking down at her plate as she spoke. Sitting adjacent to her and across the table from Diana, Doc smirked slightly.

"No you don't. It's not a pretty skill to have."

"I'd listen to Doc, honey." Diana said. Somehow she'd taken the terrible foodstock that the refugee camps and soup kitchens on Omega provided and had made a gobsmackingly good bit of spaghetti. The social worker assigned to their section, Helena something or other, also was good at skimming a few luxury items off the top for the sake of the neighborhood. Tonight it was honest-to-god parmesan cheese. Doc felt like he was in heaven, or at least as close to it as possible. Still, he had to be careful not to eat too greedily. It was easy to get food and crap on his beard and mustache. It wasn't fun washing himself off in that terrible shower with the smelly water; he had to be careful he didn't pick up a waterborne disease.

"But it seems so…romantic!" Nef finally said. "The way you're always out there on the street, in that brown duster…you look like a cowboy like in those old pre-holo vids. It's a very inspiring look to draw-" Her eyes widened, and her face was the color of a tomato. "I-I-I-I mean, not that I watch you and draw you an-" Next to her, Diana smiled a motherly smirk.

"What's wrong, Nef? Are you suggesting that Doc here isn't a good-looking fellow? If I were his age…"

" _Mother!_ "

Despite himself, Doc smirked.

 _I smirk a little as the mother gets in a few shots at the expense of the daughter. Nef's a good kid, but I'm way too old for her. She doesn't even turn twenty for another few months, for god's sake. It's just an innocent crush, I guess. Besides, I looked a lot better without the facial hair and the beard and the shaggy hair, in my opinion. Of course, if I cut it off then people would see the scars. And they'd see who I really was._

"Alright, alright." Diana said. "I'll stop teasing, dear. But you really make it too easy."

"Mom, please…" Nef said, in a desperately pleading tone. She wouldn't even make eye contact with Doc. He rubbed his chin in thought, and then smiled.

"You know, now that I think about it…maybe I'd be a good model after all."

"W-what?" Nef asked, looking like a stunned goldfish. Doc tried not to smile.

"Maybe I'd like a little painting of me as a cowboy. Nothing too fancy, of course." He smiled. "I could even pay you."

"…Really?" Nef asked. "I mean, I'm okay at sculpting but painting is…no, I'll do it." She smiled sweetly. "I'll do it because you asked nicely, and you're nice."

 _If only she knew._

…

Later that night, after thanking them for dinner and promising to make it a weekly thing, Doc hobbled out into the street. It was "dark," or at least darker than it was a few hours ago. This was usually when the troublemakers started to come out to play. He heard the sounds of locks clicking through the neighborhood as he passed through. It wasn't because of him; it was because of whatever else might be out there. He didn't blame them. Omega was a scary place, filled with scary people.

 _A perfect place for a butcher to hide, really._

He got to the door of his tenement apartment, and was about to enter when he froze. The small piece of gum that he'd adhered to the bottom corner of the door, so small that no one would have noticed it, was snapped. Someone had entered the place.

Drawing his pistol, he made sure it was loaded and kicked in the door.

…

He lowered the weapon when he saw who it was. A figure in the shadows, wearing a mask to disguise his face. Dark armor designed for both stealth and black ops missions. Very top of the line stuff, to be honest. He must have stolen it from a very wealthy shipment. The figure had his back to him, gazing at the wall. No weapons in plain sight.

"You could have knocked." Doc finally said.

"I was in a hurry."

"You couldn't have waited for me?"

"Please." The figure turned towards him. "I'm not exactly in a position to be strolling through the streets of Omega as a salesman going door-to-door."

The figure's helmet had a voice modifier that deepened the tone of voice, but wasn't quite able to disguise the telltale flanging of a Turian's voice. Also, the body type was a dead giveaway, but that was another thing entirely.

"I think the expression is 'door-to-door salesman.'" Doc said. The figure waved a hand dismissively.

"Isn't what I just said? I'm not here to debate semantics. Your idioms are hard enough to figure out, and I've had practice with the best of them."

"What do you want." Doc said, his smile faded. There was no questioning lilt in his voice. He was tired and starting to feel the effects of his stims wearing out. In another hour he'd be crashed on the bed, sleeping off the mother of all hangovers.

"Can't I make a social call?" The Turian asked.

"I didn't think we were friends."

"Then does that make us enemies?"

"No."

"Then I'd say we're friends."

"…Whatever."

The figure looked around the room, and then down at the floor.

"Have a rough night?" He asked, gesturing to the telltale signs of cleaned up vomit on the floor. Doc's eye twitched.

"Maybe. Maybe that's none of your business."

"I can't have any unreliable assets, you know."

"I don't recall ever agreeing to be your asset. Or anyone's asset."

"You're not my enemy, by your own words. And you're unwilling to say we're friends. So that makes you an asset, for lack of a better term. Don't look so offended, it means we're not enemies. You don't want to know what I do to my enemies."

"I've heard stories."

"Oh?" The figure sat down on the chair, the wood creaking in futile protest. Doc winced. That chair was going to break the next time he sat in it, he just knew it. "And just what have you heard?"

"Enough to make two-bit thugs afraid of making drug deals in the open, and think twice about bothering a little group of humans huddled around what they call a church."

"I haven't done much about this neighborhood." The figure admitted. "That's all you, according to my intel." He paused, gauging the way Doc's shoulders heaved. "Do the others know the things you've done to the riffraff that've tried setting up shop around here, in the abandoned tenements? I have to say, it's damn good work. A little… _messy,_ I suppose. But it's dead scum all the same." He folded his arms behind the back of his head. "My offer is always open, you know."

"I'm not much of a team player." Doc said.

"Then freelance. You can operate out of here, and only work on the outside fringes of my operation."

"Still too invested."

The Turian chuckled.

"Well, it wasn't a no. I like that." He got up. "I've stayed here long enough. Any longer and my team gets worried, or the mercenaries start looking for me. Wouldn't want them to get brought to this section of the station. By the way, a little gift." He reached into a bag he had fastened to his hip. "I saw the one you carry at your hip and thought it could use a brother. Or a sister, if you will."

Doc took the M-3 Predator in his hand, feeling the weight of the weapon. It was light, which meant that it hadn't been loaded. He twirled it around his finger forwards, and then backwards. He looked at the masked Turian, and nodded.

"It'll work."

"Because I'm such a nice guy, I brought some upgrades for the other one, so that they're both on similar levels. I've seen that peacekeeper you've got. No offense, but I think the only thing keeping it from breaking apart on you is dumb luck." The Turian set the bag down on the table, and cleared his throat. "I should go. It's getting late." He was about to walk out the door, when he stopped and turned around. "Oh, and I know it's none of my business, seeing as how we're not-quite-friends and not-enemies, but I saw a bunch of unsavory sorts filing into that tenement apartment at the far end of the street a day or so ago. They haven't come out, which likely means they've been hitting the red sand a little too hard…but I wouldn't bet against them stumbling out with guns firing in any general direction. Unless they…were taken care of." He pointed towards the building in question. Doc stared at it, and then looked back at the Turian.

"But how many ar-"

He was talking to himself.

 _I hate it when he does that._

 _It's technically midnight by the time I'm done putting together and cleaning up my Predator with the upgrades that Archangel gave me. Don't know why he's taken a shine to me, but at least I don't have to worry about getting my head blown off from half a mile away. And during that time, I can hear the sounds of loud noises and stupidity coming from that tenement. Definitely raiders, alright. Maybe even a slaver or two. They might be drugged out of their minds right now on red sand and god knows what else, but there's no better time to deal with a threat than when they're at an objective disadvantage._

 _I strapped the holsters to my hips, and made sure both guns were properly loaded. No need for a misfire now. I throw on my duster, the very one that little Nef said made me look like a cowboy, and I step out into the night. You know, it's kind of cute, in a funny sort of way, that Nef's painting me as one of those old-school gunslingers, the kind that roll into town at high noon to defeat the man in the black hat. I'm sure that's the way that the others see me, too._

 _I reach the doorway of the tenement, and can hear the voices dying down as the drugs kick in and their adrenaline saps._

 _I don't have the heart to tell Nef that, in the end, I might be the man in the black hat after all._

 _But that shouldn't be much of a surprise._

 _I am a Butcher, after all._

A/N: Hope you can follow the narrative structure. Anything in italics is the inner thoughts of our main character: "Doc Halladay," (whose real first name hasn't yet been revealed. Might as well be "X" Shepard at this rate. Hang in there, we'll hear it soon!) and anything in regular text is the normal third-person narration. Hope it makes sense. Shout-out to anyone who recognizes the veeeerrry small characters from Mass Effect 1 and 2 in this chapter, which doesn't count the well-known one at the end. See you next time!

A/N no. 2: As another personal aside, our main character "Doc Halladay/X Shepard" bears a striking resemblance to Kurt Russell in _Escape from New York_ …minus the eye patch, and with facial hair more akin to Ben Affleck in _Argo_. Hopefully that helps with visualizing him. He didn't always look like this, though.


	3. Seeing Ghosts

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on. And, at the suggestion of a reviewer, this chapter is entirely in first person from the perspective of "Doc Halladay." Let me know if it makes for easy reading.

I lit a cigar, and wiped the blood off of my hands. I looked around the room. The last of them had bled out a few minutes ago, leaving me sitting in the middle of a room of corpses. I know that, deep down, I should feel something… _anything_ for the way I've extinguished the lives of a bunch of low-rent drug addicts and gang members. And yet I feel nothing but frustration that I've gotten blood on my shoes. And Archangel's intel was good enough; they were clearly planning something, considering all of the weapons that were stashed in the basement, hidden behind a basic firewall security system.

I don't know how Archangel found me. I guess I must radiate that same sort of brutality that he does. Kindred spirits, or something like that. All I know is that he decided not to shoot me on sight, for what it's worth, and periodically gives me some advice on bad sorts drifting into my little community. I'm not about to go take down the station itself, but I can at least let a block and a half of a single street on the station sleep relatively peacefully at night.

And sometimes I wonder if he isn't literally an angel of death, the way he disappears and moves from place to place. Part of me wonders if he's a fallen SPECTRE or something like that: no one else could be as good at staying hidden the way he does without that level of ability. Either way, he's been the worst possible thing for Omega. Ironically enough, considering how he clearly seems to believe in his cause.

See, the gangs that live on Omega are only allowed to exist because Aria T'Loak allows it. That of course makes Aria one awful individual from a rational standpoint, but good and bad is relative in a place like this. The Blue Suns, Blood Pack, and Eclipse are all stuck in a holding pattern, jockeying and pushing against one another but none of them gaining an edge. That's intentional. If they're too busy bickering with one another, they won't ever figure out that Aria's playing them like a grand piano in one of those Asari dance halls. And now here comes a high and mighty Turian who's clearly got a hero complex in to upset the apple cart.

One of two things is going to happen: the most likely occurrence is Aria has enough of his bullshit and dispenses some elite commando to put a bullet in his brain and then eject him out an airlock in order to maintain the status quo…or the mercenary bands get smart, band together, and just go and kill him. And considering the stories I've heard about him, he'll take a lot of them with him before he goes.

And Aria wins either way. Genius, really.

I've never met her, if that's what you're wondering, but I've heard of her. Everyone on this station has heard of Aria T'Loak. She drifted in here some time ago, and within record-breaking time (even for an Asari) she had the whole place wrapped around her thumb. Beautiful, smart, dangerous…the best and worst possible combination for an Asari. Which, come to think about it, describes every asari if you're feeling cute. For the most part, a pretty hands-off ruler. Except for the one golden rule: Don't fuck with Aria.

Considering the numerous bodies that get spaced out from the airlock nearby Afterlife, there must be an awful lot of people that need this rule explained to them.

At the end of the day, Aria hasn't decided to send a hit squad in my direction, so I clearly am not fucking with her. But I suppose it's only a matter of time.

…

A few days pass after my little "trip" to the apartment tenement, and aside from the errant varren in a back alley, nothing of note happened. Get up, drink myself into a stupor, take a couple of pills to snap out of it, go to church, ruminate on the nightmares, and go back to sleep. Oh, and interact with those in the community. It was the latter occurrence, a week after my visit in the tenement, that things started to change.

"Do you watch the news much, Doc?" Diana asked me, over her plate of spaghetti. I don't know where she found it, but this stuff does the impossible and doesn't taste of egg noodles and katsup. The woman is a miracle worker.

I try not to slurp my noodles obnoxiously as I respond.

"No, Diana, I don't really get out much. Nothing really interesting out there."

"There is a bit of interesting news today." Diana said, a smile growing on her face. "There are rumors that the Commander Shepard is alive!"

I drop my fork mid-bite.

I feel…I don't know what I feel. Empty? No, that's not it. Numb. I feel numb. Like for a brief moment, my brain stopped working, sent an error report, and then rebooted all in the space of one second. I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the rapid beating of my heart, and I look her in the eye.

"Are you sure?" He asked. "Wasn't she dead?"

"Yes, she was…I think. But there's a rumor that she's alive. They say that she survived the attack above Alchera, and that she's been in hiding for the last two years recovering and planning her revenge for a secret Alliance mission!" Nef chimed in. "I'd love to meet her!"

"You served in the Alliance, didn't you Doc?" Diana asked. "Did you ever cross paths with Commander Shepard?"

"Nope. Can't say I did."

Technically speaking, this is the complete truth. Sis and I never served in the same unit together, no matter how many times the upper brass thought it would be good PR to pair us after Elysium. Well, that disappeared quickly after I had my fun in Torfan, but it was the thought that counted. Also, I literally can't say that I did cross paths with Sis, because if I said that I **had** , then Diana might start asking questions. And I'm content living the life of a forgettable wash-out, not as a complete liar.

"Oh, that's a shame." Diana said. She sighed. "Nef here was planning sculpting a little figure of the commander when the news broke of her death. She hadn't really thought of doing any other human drawings and the like until you. How's it coming by the way, sweetie?"

"Great!" Nef said a little too quickly. "Just, uh, gotta be a little more concise around the edges, but I'll get it done in time."

"That's wonderful, dear." Diana said. "You know what you should do? You should try going out later this week with some of the other kids in the community. I think it might be a great idea to spread your wings a little bit."

"Moommm, they're kind of weird." Nef said, pouting slightly. "And I think Timmy is kind of creepy. He's always hitting on me."

"Want me to kneecap him for you?"

The words are out of my mouth before I think to stop myself. There's a pause, and then to my relief both Diana and Nef start laughing. Nef nearly snorts her cola out her nose from the thought of it, which only makes her laugh harder. Diana wipes a tear from her eye.

"No, goodness Doc! No wonder you're so good to this community!" She winked. "I bet you really meant it, didn't you?"

She thinks she's joking, that I was doing it as a little sort of "tee-hee" joke. And yet she has no idea how much I'd seriously considered doing it.

…

I leave the house with my head spinning. The conversation keeps drifting back to the same thing. Commander Shepard. Sis. Janey. Alive? Is it possible?

I stagger through the street, walking and walking with no particular destination in mind. I know that this is tantamount to suicide for most people on Omega, but I'm not most people. I won't wait for some seedy type to threaten me; I'll shoot them in the fucking throat before they get done monologuing.

Eventually, I realize that the lights and the music in the distance are getting louder and brighter, and with a sigh I realize that I've gone too far and that I'm right outside of the festering heart of this station: Afterlife. Neon lights, thumping music, and silhouetted signs of debauchery and hedonism. I see bouncers throwing people out left and right. In one of the shaded windows, I can see a dancer getting a little up close with her client. I hear the sounds of glass breaking, and a bar brawl brewing. Precisely the capital that a place like this deserves. I doubt there's a more wretched hive of scum and villainy in the entire galaxy.

Which, in retrospect, makes it the perfect place to hide. No one would look for a Butcher amongst murderers, rapists, thieves and otherwise. Compared to the rest of them, my sins are relatively mundane.

And speaking of sinners, I notice that there is an awful lot of ugly sorts lined up to the outside edge of the club, headed down towards the lower levels. They look like mercenaries and cutthroats and other ne'er-do-wells, and all of them have the glint in their eyes of potential pillaging and plunder. My first instinct is to see their numbers and run like the plague itself is chasing after me.

But it's like Sis always told me: I might be big and tough and ugly, but I've got the curiosity of a little tabby. And one of these days it's gonna kill me.

Sighing, I make my way over to the line of mercenaries. I notice that the line is moving relatively briskly. Something big must be going down. Now my curiosity really will be the death of me.

As I get closer to the line and eventually join the back end of it, I decide that it might be best for me to go incognito. I reach into my pocket and pull out a little dandy just for the occasion.

Right before humans discovered mass relays and, by extension, omnitools, the next big thing in technology was the holographic interfacing handhelds that looked like a cross between a cassette deck Walkman and a Game Boy. The iDroid was supposed to be the major innovation of technological simplicity. Within a decade, it was obsolete. But an iDroid is a lot cheaper than an Omnitool…and a damn sight more inconspicuous. Provided you keep the VI voice on mute.

A press of a button, and the thing comes active. I reach behind my ears, looking like I'm scratching behind there but in reality pressing a button right next to my translator implant. I hear the whirring in my ears signaling that the device is synched to my iDroid, and with a press of a button on the handheld device I feel the facemask and helmet close over my head.

I used to read the hell out of those old pulp serials, long before the invention of holopads and holoreaders. One of my favorites was the _Guardians of the Galaxy,_ and I was always a fan of that jackass Peter Quill. "Star Prince," or whatever the hell he called himself. Totally normal to have a nickname, right? Either way, my mask looks like a carbon copy of his. Pretty intimidating, if I do say so myself.

I press another button on my iDroid, and can hear the vocal box in the mask starting up. I select an option, and I can feel the program downloading right as I make my way up to the front desk. There's a front desk for this shit. Jesus, something must be serious.

"Name?" The guy behind the desk is a Batarian asshole, who can't be bothered to look up. If he saw my face, I bet he'd wet himself in fear. I apparently tend to have that effect on Batarians. Not a bad trait to have, I guess. I speak, with the translator crackling at first as it picks up the new voice.

"Halladay. Doc Halladay." I say, having chosen the voice of a deeper-voiced man than I. It's clear that I'm using a voice modifier, but no one really cares in a situation like this. He looks up at me.

"Okay, _Doc Halladay_. You understand the parameters of what we're asking you?"

"Actually, I don't." I say, feigning ignorance as best as I can. "I'm a drifter; I just blew into town. Heard this place was pretty tough, and thought I'd check it out."

"With a pair of pea-shooters?" The Batarian asked, looking at my holstered Predators. "You must be either pretty good or a complete idiot."

I look at him, and draw my pistols. I've spent years practicing twirling these things around my fingers. It was the only thing I had to pass the time in the cargo hold of shitty transport ships on a late night out to the middle of nowhere. Some nights I even loaded the guns. For extra motivation. It's the first time that I've had two at the same time, but I've practiced so damn much that I might as well have had two my entire life. I'm clearly holding back, but I want him to know I'm not fucking around. Effortlessly, I holster them in one fluid motion, and stare at him. He whistles.

"You're pretty good." He said. He cleared his throat. "This is a joint venture between the Blue Suns, the Blood Pack, and the Eclipse. Payment is forwarded at the end of the mission. Here's a little something for you up front, though. Just for that pretty display."

I hold out my iDroid, and he snorts in disdain.

"Old man…" He mutters, before taking the device and manually inputting the credit transfer, as opposed to wirelessly transferring it via Omnitool. He clears his throat.

"Alright, now that you're in, here's the scoop: we've finally cornered Archangel. We're gonna gut him tonight, and when that's over get back to the way things were."

I have to admit, I was partial to the idea of Aria taking care of business herself.

"Doesn't Aria want a piece of this?" I ask. He laughs.

"Ha! Our bosses told her our plan and she laughed hysterically. She was still laughing when they left. But we'll see who's laughing last when we drag that Turian's corpse in front of her couch." Clearly this man was bitter towards the queen of Omega. I didn't care either way.

I walk off to the side of the room, and weigh my options. I don't have a way to contact Archangel, so that's out of the question. I can't take off my helmet, because then someone might remember my face and go after the community as revenge for my inevitable double-cross. More than likely, I'm just gonna be another nameless body that Archangel blows to kingdom come. Truthfully, it might be a relief compared to the alternatives. I'm stuck now. I lean against the wall, observing the room of ugly assholes around me, and try to think of my next move.

"What are you-hey?!"

I turn towards the commotion. There's a kid there, looking like a baby cat in a valley of lions. He probably thought that the skull cap would look intimidating. It just makes him look like a dork. But now his only weapon's been broken. It looked like a piece of shit, too. He must have gotten it cheap, like for 50 credits.

There are three people in front of him. One of them is an old man, most likely a mercenary. He looks like he's seen a hell of a lot of fights, and his face looks like it was literally blown apart and then badly stitched together. One of his eyes is milky and filmed over, like a glaucoma of some sort. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he took a bullet to the face and walked it off. Impressive.

Next to him is…well, to call her a woman would be an insult. Tall, slender, raven hair and perfect physique. A cold stare that radiates both danger and allure. And a very flattering white-and-black catsuit that accentuates all of her-

Gotta get my mind out of the gutter.

"Trust me kid. You'll thank me later."

That voice. I'd know that voice anywhere. I look and-

No. No, I'm dreaming. There's no way I'm actually looking at what I'm looking at. This isn't real.

She's standing in the middle of that gorgeous woman and the stitched-together mercenary, holding the now-useless pistol in her hands. She must have intentionally jammed it, both to discourage the kid from going any further and to show him how shitty his weapon actually was. And the kid seemed to have bought it, hook line and sinker. Just a minute ago, he was sitting there claiming that he was gonna be the badass that put a bullet in Archangel. Now he's gone home, most likely to rethink his life. Maybe he'll even join the fucking Peace Corps or something like that.

But that's the effect that my sister, Jane Shepard, has on people.

A/N: Think the shift in narrative perspective is cleaner? Drop a review either for that or otherwise. Aside from that, hope you enjoyed it. Now the real plot begins…Still haven't revealed "Doc Halladay's" real name.


	4. Down The Rabbit Hole

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

She really hasn't changed a bit since the last time I saw her. Still has the splash of freckles covering her cheeks and face. Still has that strawberry brown hair tied into a bun like any good Alliance girl. Still has those shining blue eyes, and the look of someone who gets shit done. She still looks like the Lioness of Elysium. She still looks like my sister.

But the scars on her face are new. They're fading, but in the proper lighting it looks like they're glowing. It's unsettling. And her skin is still somewhat pale, like a permanent shut-in who's only just recently decided to go out and see the sun with their own eyes. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was a recently-resurrected zombie of sorts. But she's still there. I see her shoulders rising and falling with every breath. She's _alive._

And I have to remind myself to stay cool. I'm glad that I'm wearing the helmet and mask. It's good to know that I can stare at her all bug-eyed and she won't notice.

She's conversing privately with the woman and the mercenary. They're looking around, sizing up the group of people in the room. I can feel the smug superiority radiating off of the woman and mercenary; clearly they think that they are the baddest in the room. Well, if you disqualify my sister, that is. She's probably got them both beat.

I see that Sis and the woman are interested in getting some provisions from the impromptu quartermaster over by the sign-in guy, leaving the mercenary by himself. He shakes his head, muttering something that I can't hear, and then starts walking.

Right in my general direction.

He leans against the wall right next to me, sighing somewhat dramatically as he crosses his arms over his chest. And then he speaks.

"You don't look like one of these louses. What the bloody hell are you doin' here?"

He's got an old and grizzled voice, just like I expected.

I shrug.

"Figured this might be the biggest excitement in town."

He turns to look at me, his good eyebrow raised.

"Yeah? Running into a goddamn meat grinder is your idea of fun?"

I turn to look at him.

"No. But watching Batarians is."

He lets out a stunned outburst of wheezy laughter, nearly doubling over at the thought of it. Regaining his composure, he wipes a tear from his eye.

"Oh, _you_ I _like!_ " He growled, about as friendly as he could get with that voice. He extends his hand towards me. "Zaeed Massani. Gun-for-hire and the best damn hunter in the galaxy. Who are you, princess?"

"Doc Halladay." I say, shaking his hand firmly.

He snorts.

"Right, and I'm Wyatt Earp."

I blink, my expression blank with confusion. He lowers his voice, so others don't hear him.

"I'm not one of these stupid assholes, kid. I know that ain't your real name. I also know that ain't your real voice. I can recognize a shitty voice modulator program. What, is that from an old iDroid program or something?"

Stunned, but not showing it through my mask, I wordlessly show him the device. He whistles.

"Damn." He said quietly. "I remember when those things still had a future. Why don't you just buy a bloody omnitool like the rest of us, you goddamn Luddite?"

"In my opinion, you can't beat the classics." I shrug. He smiles.

"Damn straight. That's why I'm still here." He clears his throat. "So, uh, _Doc Halladay,_ are you really out here to kill Archangel?"

"No, I had plans to infiltrate the ranks of these freelancers, shoot a couple of them in the back of the head, and then rescue Archangel before anyone figures out what's up."

Zaeed lowers his voice some more.

"You know, I'd be laughing at you if the lady over there didn't suggest the same damned thing. Great minds think alike, I suppose." He raised an eyebrow. "Ever heard that old saw 'the enemy of my enemy' and some such?"

"What?" I asked, confused. "You suggesting that I come with you?"

"We could always use another gun." Zaeed said.

"How do you know I'm worth anything?" I ask.

"Because of the way you carry yourself." He said. "Clearly former military, either Alliance or PMF. All these jokers have a basic assault rifle and shitty armor; you're dressed like a goddamn space cowboy." He gestured to the duster I was wearing. "I am bloody envious of that thing, by the way. Don't think I could pull it off." He cleared his throat and continued. "You clearly have a _style_ , which means that you've been in firefights before and you know how to survive them. Now, I don't know much, but I know that someone who has a distinguishable style in the battlefield is a damn sight more useful to a cause than the cannon fodder these bastards will be."

"You make a good argument." I mutter. "Too bad she wasn't around to hear it."

"I wasn't around to hear what now?"

My blood runs cold at the sound of my sister's voice. She's clearly made her way over to us, dragging that woman with her. She folds her arms across her chest, and stares at Massani with a motherly look.

"Zaeed, are you busy pumping this merc's head with horror stories?"

"Horror stories? Me?" Zaeed makes an offended huffing noise. "I would never! I'd just tell him the bloody truth and he'd shit himself."

"Not helping." Sis said, her eyes narrowing. She turns to look at me, and my stomach drops into my toes. "And who are you, sunshine?"

Sunshine. She used to call me that all the time whenever I was acting grumpy. She has no idea. She has no earthly idea, does she?

"Call me Doc." I finally say. She raises an eyebrow.

"I take it that that's a pseudonym?" She asked. "What exactly are you running from?"

You have no idea, Sis.

"Let's just say I have a vested interest in not letting these bastards around me find out who I really am." I said. "Especially when my vested interest is in screwing them all over."

"Really?" Sis asked, skepticism remaining. "That wouldn't involve double-crossing them and then rescuing Archangel now, would it?"

"Yeah."

I was never one for lying.

She chuckles.

"Well imagine that, _Doc._ Seems like we have a mutual goal here."

"Shepard, don't trust this one." The woman said. She was staring at me with barely-concealed contempt. It was both intimidating and really, really hot all at the same time.

Head out of the gutter.

"Miranda, I haven't even gotten into that yet." Sis said. She turns back to me. "Well, seeing as how you and I have a little mutual agreement, perhaps we can work a deal. Interested?"

"What are your terms?" I ask. She shrugs.

"You tell me what you know about Archangel, and in return I won't turn you in to the authorities after this is all said and done." She said.

"How do you know that I know anything about Archangel?" I ask. She glares at me.

"Because you don't want him dead. Clearly that means that he's done something for you, and you don't want him to die because of this." She said. "Now, I know it's not asking for much, but I'm appealing to your better nature here. What can you tell me about Archangel?"

"He's Turian, that much I know." I began. "Came here to Omega…I wanna say a few months ago. Been upsetting the apple cart ever since." She raised an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't cutting into the three major merc groups in Omega be a good thing?"

"Only if you're a fan of the devil you don't know in comparison to the devil that you do know." I said. I'm glad that the voice modifier covered for me, because the more I talked to my sister the more I realized that little to nothing had changed between us: despite being…well, either dead or something else, Janey was still as hopelessly idealistic as ever. And we always had arguments like this, though never truly shouting at each other. Relentlessly butting heads, on the other hand, was a bit more our style.

She frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked. "Are you saying that the mercenaries are _good_ for Omega?"

"I'm saying I don't trust the alternative to be any better. And I'm afraid that Archangel's just going to piss them off, and before you know it they're all gonna start being a little cagier towards their constituents, a little more aggressive about their extortion."

"What a relentlessly depressing way to look at things." She said.

"That's just the way I think, Sister."

Shit.

Her eyes narrow, and she stares at me with a degree of suspicion. Even Miranda and Zaeed look a little confused. I verbally backspace.

"…Sorry. One of my biggest flaws is being a little too flippant with people that could blow my head off with that really, really big grenade launcher they have strapped on their back." I gesture to the piece on Jane's armor. "Nice one, by the way."

She nods, and apparently is willing to let the near-slip pass. She clears her throat.

"Well, Doc, seeing as how you're the only one here that hasn't either given me the stinkeye or tried to lie to me…I'm hoping that you and I don't cross paths in the future." She turns around. "Come on guys, let's get going."

"Wait."

The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. There was a small part of me that would have been okay with her just walking away, having never known who I was or how close she came to seeing me again. And to be fair, that small part of me wasn't actually so small after all. But then there was another part of me that seemed to scream that this would be the only chance I get again in this lifetime. And I don't know what happens in the next one, but I wasn't about to let this pass me up.

"I, uh, know Archangel. If I go with you, I can get him to stand down while you talk sense to him." I offer lamely. "It's not a good shot, but at least I'll be the first to die so that you can get him and talk some sense into him."

She stares at me suspiciously.

"What's the catch?" She asks.

"Some credits, I guess." I say lamely. "Might be able to afford a real omnitool instead of this old thing." I hold up my iDroid. "And then I'll be on my way."

There's a silence. She scratches her chin in thought.

"Commander, you cannot be seriously considering this deal." Miranda said, her expression a cross between shock and revulsion. "We don't even know who this 'Doc Halladay' is. For all we know, he's a plant for the-"

"Miranda, lighten up." Sis said, a little too quickly. It seemed like Miranda was about to say something that maybe she wasn't supposed to, and Sis cut her off at the pass. Both intriguing and troublesome at the same time. Sis was always terrible at lying and keeping secrets, but she was usually pretty discreet about it. So for her to go and cut someone off like that…something big must be brewing.

"What kind of skills do you have?" Sis asked. I cleared my throat.

"Just another gun, I suppose." I say. When I see her interest waning, I decide to be a little bit more honest. "Also good with explosives, and the best damn pistolier you've met."

"I haven't met many pistoliers." Sis said, a smirk gracing her lips. I scowl, though she can't see it.

"Still better than them, though." I grunt.

"Careful Shepard, you might have hurt Doc's feelings here." Miranda said, a smug look creeping on her face. I just stare at her, but don't say anything. What do you say to the truth?

"Well, we might need knowledge of explosives if we are gonna get Archangel out of there." Shepard said. "So for now, Doc Halladay, welcome to my team. Hope this is a decision that we don't regret."

"Same here, Commander." I say, struggling not to betray the shakiness in my voice.

…

A Batarian takes the four of us in a regulation skycar towards the bottom reaches of the station. If Omega looks like a jellyfish of sorts, then the location where Archangel was holed up was near the bottom tip of what would be the stingers. I suppose there's something poetic about him being stuck in the almost-literal ass end of the galaxy, though I doubt he'd appreciate the irony. I'm sitting next to Zaeed, with Miranda adjacent to me and Sis right across from me. She's got her arms across her chest, and she's regarding me with some degree of suspicion. I realize I'm sweating.

"How come you don't take that thing off?" She asks me.

"I'm ugly." I say. Zaeed barks out a laugh.

"Please! I got shot in the bloody face and you don't see me wearing no goddamned mask." He grins. It's like looking at the face of a shark.

"Just respect this choice of mine. I'm already putting myself on the line by helping you." I say, somewhat testily. Sis nods passively.

"Fair enough. But at the very least try to make sure all that hair doesn't fall down in front of your mask's optics. It'll blur your vision."

I can't believe it. Seven years have passed since we last saw each other, and she's still telling me to get a haircut. She has no idea.

"Deal." I say. She chuckles. It's the first time I've heard her laugh in almost a decade. I forgot what a nice sound it was.

I guess I didn't realize just how much I missed my sister.

…

We arrived at the location, and the Batarian led us to the pavilion. One of the recruiters walked up to us. He was a Batarian clad in Blue Suns armor, and clearly knew his stuff.

"Careful!" He said, holding up his hands. "This whole area is within Archangel's firing range. You get too high and out of sorts…"

There's a gunshot from across the bridge in the distance, and one of the mercs that was on our side and not paying attention drops to the ground, his head exploded by a high impact round. The Batarian sighs and just points to the evidence on the ground to prove his point.

"What's the deal?" Shepard asked.

"We've cornered Archangel in that mansion on the other end of the bridge. Unfortunately, that bridge is the only way to get to him, and he's turned it into a total kill zone. I've lost count of the number of freelancers he's destroyed since we got here. He even sniped down a gunship. A fucking gunship!" He threw up his hands in dismay. But then he smiled. "But there's hope. He's getting tired and making some mistakes. And that's where you come in: we're organizing a special raiding team to get him from behind and flank. But we need a large-scale distraction."

"Lemme guess, _that's_ why the back-end of every merc contract was so bloody enticing." Zaeed growled. The Batarian shrugged.

"Sorry old man, but you aren't a member of the Blue Suns, Eclipse, or Blood Pack. You volunteered for this mission, and you're getting the tougher job as a result. You don't like it, the aircar's still waiting over there."

"Alright, we'll be part of the ground team." Shepard said. "Anything we should know?"

"Just that you will have the cover of some heavy mechs and the gunship, provided that Cathka can get it online." The Batarian said. "He's in the hangar to the left. The YMIR mechs are stationed in that hallway to the right. In case you wanna ogle the pretty toys we've got." He turned around. "I'm gonna get ready for the assault. You freelancers try not to get killed, will you?" He walked away before any of us could say anything.

As soon as he's out of earshot, Shepard speaks.

"We should try to mess with the mechs and the gunship, but there's not enough time." She said. "Unless we split up."

"I can handle the core IFFs of your basic YMIR mech, provided they're in standby mode." Miranda said. "I'll do that."

"I like ripping wires out of ships." Zaeed said. "I can handle the gunship."

"Fair enough." Shepard said. "I'll go with Miranda. Zaeed, feel like taking Doc?"

"Sure thing, Commander." Zaeed said. He gestured towards me. "C'mon, mate. Let's go ground a helo."

…

We found the gunship situated in a little hangar just outside of the boulevard. A Batarian in Blue Suns gear, whom I assumed was Cathka, was talking to a few soldiers in similar armor. He dismissed them, and they all gave us a look as we walked past them. Bunch of little shits, that group. Cathka turned towards us, and set down his electro-tool he'd been using on the interior of the gunship on the counter.

"Wow, we might've lucked out with this batch of freelancers." Cathka said. "You two look like you mean business. You especially, old man." He said to Zaeed, who growled.

"Another word and you'll be talking through broken teeth, jackass." Zaeed snarled. Cathka just laughed.

"See? Touchy, too! Perfect combination for cannon fodder."

"I gotta ask, mate: what's the goddamn point of having a bunch of us mercs running around like chickens with our heads cut off if you have a goddamned gunship? Why not just bomb that Archangel bastard?"

I see what Zaeed's doing. He's distracting Cathka to give me time to think of a way to incapacitate the guy. Devious, but smart as hell.

"I wish. The last time we dragged this thing out here, he damn near sniped the rotors off. I didn't think such sniper skill was possible and yet-"

He was interrupted by the sound of another gunshot, and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

"-I stand corrected with each shot." Cathka said. "But he's getting tired. No way he has the focus to hit the rotors of this baby anymore. And once I'm done re-wiring the interior targeting system, which he somehow blew to hell, it'll be easy to rain down hell on that bastard."

"He hit the targeting computer?" Zaeed asked, folding his arms across his chest. "How the bloody hell did he accomplish that?"

I stare at the work bench, and just like that the solution is right in front of me.

"Hell if I know, human. All I know is I've spent the last day trying to put this thing back together."

I casually walk up behind the Batarian.

"You're working too hard." I said.

I jammed the electro-tool into the small of his back.

He gave a scream of pain as the voltage coursed through his armor and then into his very body, and within moments his screams became subdued gurgling. He slumped to the ground, twitching but very much dead. I look at his corpse, and then I look at Zaeed. He has a look of horror and shock on his face.

"What?" I asked. "Don't tell me you didn't think of that, too."

"It's not _that_ I'm mad about." Zaeed said, scowling. "I was waiting for you to get it through your thick skull that this Batarian bastard needed an 'electro-stimulant' if you will. No, what I'm pissed about is the fact that you had all this time to pull it off, and the _best bloody thing you can come up with is_ 'You're working too hard?'"

"Didn't keep my handbook of one-liners on me, Massani." I said, shrugging. He snorted.

"Just got no sense of style, kid. None whatsoever. But that's what running with me will teach you. Some panache. Some _class._ Now, which one is the right fucking wire?" He leans over and peers into the inner workings of the gunship. "Hmm, I think _this_ one looks important. And that one bloody well can go too! A yank here, a crossing of the streams there…all done." He slammed the door to the wiring shut.

"What did you do to it?" I asked him. He shrugged.

"I have no bloody clue." He said. "Just a lot of bad shit."

"Zaeed. Doc. We re-programmed the mechs and-what the hell?" We turned around to see Sis and Miranda behind us. Miranda has a blank expression on her face, but Sis looked shocked. "Why is that Batarian on the ground, dead with his ass sticking up in the air?" I look at Zaeed, who shrugs.

"Don't blame us, Commander. We showed him some adjustments to make to this gunship and…I guess he found them too _shocking_ to handle."

I smack my forehead. _That_ was the best he could come up with? Sis just groans, and rolls her eyes.

"Really?" She asked. "And I suppose _this_ had nothing to do with it?" She yanks the electro-tool out of his back, and waves in front of our faces. I shrug.

"He fell backwards onto it."

"Doc, just stop talking." Sis said with a hiss. She turned to Zaeed. "Don't let your jihad against the Batarians jeopardize why we're here, Zaeed. That's unprofessional and downright _stupid._ " She pointed at me. "And don't encourage him."

I struggle not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"That's everything we can do, Commander." Miranda said. "Now we need to get ready with the rest of them. And pray that Archangel knows who you are and decides not to shoot at us first."

Sis nods, and then gestures for us to follow her. I do, but not before realizing just how deep into the rabbit hole I have dug myself. And there's a sizeable and growing part of me that realizes the truth.

I'm not digging back out of this one.

A/N: I figured the Butcher of Torfan might get along with Zaeed Massani, or that the latter would gravitate to the former. We'll see how the next chapter goes, won't we?"


	5. Jig's Up

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

The sound of gunfire is the signal that things are about to get hairy. I look over towards the bridge to see that a new wave of mercenaries are on their way across, and one by one they start to fall like dominoes. Judging by the rather…messy ways they fall, it's clear that Archangel is sticking to high impact rounds for now. He's probably trying to scare them off before they just send everyone at him. That's only going to last for as long as his clip of HI rounds lasts.

"Hug the sides of the bridge, and keep your head down." Shepard said, as we all loaded our weapons. "Really, the best advice I can give against a sniper of this caliber is to keep moving. Just hope that he's too busy picking off the lesser mercs to notice us getting in under his nose."

"Real goddamn inspirational, Shepard." Zaeed growled.

"Your paycheck would agree, Mr. Massani." Miranda said coldly. The merc grumbled something about witches and price-gouging and something that involved the word 'goddamn,' but it was impossible to know for certain. Sis just rolled her eyes.

"When we get to the other side, we mop up anyone that came with us. Need to get some one-on-one time with Archangel."

"Now _that_ I can get behind." Zaeed said, showing off that shark-like grin again.

"Mr. Massani." Miranda said sternly.

"Oh, go get laid sweetheart." Came the brusque reply.

"Enough chit-chat, let's move in with the next group of mercs." Sis said, motioning for us to follow her lead. We set up in a basic diamond pattern, with Sis on point and myself and Miranda to her flanks. Zaeed was covering the rear. We reached the bridge, and I could have sworn I saw something up on the balcony ahead of us…

I flinched badly as a round skittered off the ground right next to my feet, so close that it nearly clipped my toes. I was not shielded like the others were; any shots I took were going to stay with me. That was one of the downsides of living in what amounted to squalor: given the choice between pills and booze and adequate self-defense, I'd clearly gone for the former.

"Keep moving!" One of the mercs shouted, right before he got his head excavated by another sniper round. Whoever Archangel was, even when he was clearly tired he was good. The other mercenaries were thinning out now, but the bravest of them were still pressing on with us. The others turned tail and ran. To their credit, they managed to get a few paces before Archangel planted a shot in the base of their necks.

Finally, we made it across the bridge and flattened our backs against the wall of the mansion. The mercs that weren't a part of our group motioned for us to follow them, and before long we were in the interior of the mansion. A nice place. Minimalist furniture, but good nonetheless. There were three entryways into the house from down here. The mercenary captain looked at his trio of followers, and then at the four of us.

"Alright, I'll take point and lead the team up the stairs. You humans have any objections?" He asked. Sis cleared her throat. Zaeed spoke up.

"Yeah. I have a question." He said. The mercenary leader, a rather short Salarian, rolled his eyes.

"What is it?"

"Die."

The four mercenaries looked at us, and then at each other. The merc leader raised an eyebrow.

"That's…not a quest-"

He never finished his sentence, as the four of us drew our weapons at an insanely fast pace and cut them all down. I'd planted two shots in the base of the neck of one of them and in the throat of another; nobody else had gotten off more than one shot.

"That's because I don't do requests." Zaeed cackled, ejected his spent heat sink.

I reflexively twirled the Predators on my fingers, and holstered them in one fluid motion. I realized that someone was looking at me. I turned to see, and saw Sis giving me a hard stare. And then a smirk.

"You're pretty good." She said after a moment's pause. "Pretty flawless technique."

"I do what I can with what I've got." I said, trying to deflect the conversation. She nodded.

"Understood." She gestured up the stairs. "Let's go meet Archangel."

…

We saw him hiding behind one of the pillars on the balcony, in the middle of ejecting a heat sink from his big sniper rifle. He hadn't made a motion like he'd seen us. Sis looked at him, and cocked her head to the side in confusion. She looked at Zaeed, and then Miranda, who just shook their heads. Then she looked at me. I shrugged. She rolled her eyes, muttered something about an inability to rely on anyone these days, and cleared her throat.

"Archangel?"

He held up a finger, without even looking up from his rifle. I heard a sharp intake of breath, and realized it was the sound of my sister…getting offended that she'd been blown off? Oh, that was Janey through and though.

Archangel finished reloading his rifle, and then with dizzying speed whipped around out of cover and fired. There was a sickening crunch as bullet met skull and brain matter, and another merc fell dead on the ground.

Dropping his rifle to the ground, Archangel turned to look at us. He was still wearing that blue and black armor he'd had on when I'd last seen him, and that helmet covering his face. His body posture seemed to relax, and he removed the helmet.

Turian. Called it.

"Shepard. I thought you were dead."

Ok, so he knew Sis. That I did _not_ anticipate.

"Garrus?" Janey asked, wide-eyed and a big smile on her face. She ran forward and wrapped him up in a big bear hug. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I guess you rubbed off on me, Shepard." The Turian called Garrus said. "After helping you against Sovereign, I decided to form up my own little misfit band of squadmates and go after evildoers." He gestured a claw across the bridge. "A fat lot of good that's done me. Now all I've got left to show for it is an increasingly smaller pile of bullets and rapidly diminishing hand-eye coordination." He sounded exhausted and relieved. "I'm still not entirely convinced that I'm not hallucinating, though. You _were_ dead for two years, after all." Then he looked over and saw me. "And now I know I'm not. Didn't I tell you that you were an asset of mine, one way or the other?" He seemed rather smug. I just flipped him off.

"You know Doc?" Sis asked Garrus. He nodded.

"I've kept him propped up in his little section of the station, Shepard." Garrus said. "He needs me."

"That's a…jaundiced account."

"Better that than the truth." Garrus said. "I'd love to catch up but we still have an awful lot of mercs on the other side of that bridge, and there's no way out except across it."

"Then we dig in and shoot the fuckers." Zaeed offered. Garrus offered a tired chuckle.

"I like that one, Shepard. Unfortunately I've been doing that for days now and I haven't gotten anywhere."

"That's cuz it was one on a million!" Zaeed said indignantly. "You add Zaeed goddamn Massani to the mix, and their odds of surviving drastically go down!"

"Massani, huh?" Garrus asked. "I remember one of my squadmates telling me that you were approached to hunt me down a few months ago. Glad it didn't come to pass. Would've hated putting out your other eye."

"Oh, piss off you goddamn peacock." Zaeed growled. "You're just lucky that they lowballed me. Offered half a million. Said I wouldn't get out of bed for anything less than one million flat. Never heard back from the bastards. What a shame. Would've hated blowing off half your lips."

"A million credits for my head? Glad to know that there's _some_ degree of worth to me." Garrus said, looking somewhat amused. He gestured to the bridge. "But he's got a point. With the five of us, we have a chance. I'll provide overwatch up here from the balcony. I'll need you all to close the blast doors in the main floor. That will keep them from coming inside. From there, it'll be set. I sense that they're at their wits end with me; anything more and I think they'll let off, and I initiate secret plan Fire Cobra Claw which, I stress, is a working title."

"Fire…Cobra Claw?" Sis asked, completely dumbfounded. Garrus shrugged.

"It's where I blow this place up and then fake my death in the process in order to go underground." Garrus said. "Wanted to call it the KnightFall Protocol but one of my men said that was too cliché." He shrugged.

I wondered if this "man" of Garrus' was a fan of comic books, but before I could say anything we heard the sounds of gunfire in the distance.

"Shit, that's them! Get to the first floor." Garrus said, grabbing his sniper rifle.

…

"So, you know that bastard, Shepard?" Zaeed asked, as he squeezed the trigger of his rifle. With a short burst, he blew the head off of one of the advancing LOKI mechs. Shepard dove behind one of the tables, and blind-fired a shotgun shell into the chest cavity of two more.

"Ever since the beginning!" Shepard shouted. "He's an old friend!" She slammed the button, and the blast doors came down, crushing one of the fallen LOKI mechs in half. "That's two of them! One more door to close!"

I got up from my covered position, ignoring the throbbing in my knee. I'd forgotten to take pain meds for it today, and I knew that the adrenaline was the only thing keeping me from crawling on the ground and whimpering.

An explosion. I was knocked on my stomach, and sent sliding forward a few feet. I rolled over onto my back, and saw the approaching LOKI mechs. I didn't have time to get back up on my feet. I drew my pistols and emptied the clips into everything that was moving at me. Nothing in my ears but the roaring of my Predators and the sounds of the battle and hell and horror.

And yet I felt no fear. I was in my element.

I staggered back to my feet as soon as the dust settled. Miranda took the chance to close the final blast door. As I regained my footing, Sis gestured to me.

"Suicidal, but I guess it worked. Though your mask looks a little damaged." She said, pointing to the thing on my face. I just then noticed the crack that had formed in my HUD. Not too much longer, and it would probably get expanded and then shut off the electronics in the mask. And that would force me to show my face.

"I'll be alright." I said, and then felt a cold spike in my stomach as my voice modifier crackled. Great. That was going, too. Sis nodded, though now she was slightly suspicious of me, I think. But before she could say anything, she heard a voice in her ear.

"It's Garrus! They're sending the YMIR mechs at him. Let's move!"

…

We reached the top of the stairs just as the first wave of gunfire was crashing into the balcony, shattering glass and mulching anything that was in the line of fire. Garrus was curled into a fetal position in order to hide from the shots.

"Can someone draw its fire!?" He bellowed over the roar. "I need a clear shot at the head!"

"I'll do it, you crazy Turian bastard!" Zaeed barked. "Doc, on me!" He snarled, motivating me to get over towards him. We slid down behind a pillar on the far side of the balcony, and Zaeed tossed me a concussive grenade.

"Know how to play baseball, Doc?" He asked. I snorted.

"Oh, hell yeah." I replied. I felt the buzzing in my ear, and knew that with that last exchange my voice modifier had died. Every word from hereon out would be my own. I gripped the concussive grenade, and primed it. I waited for Zaeed's signal, and then threw it as best I could. It lofted through the air, and right as it started coming down Zaeed began to shoot at it. Right before it hit the YMIR's face, one of the bullets caught the grenade and detonated it. That blew off the protective glass covering the YMIR's face…

…which Garrus took advantage of with a perfect shot through the circuitry. The YMIR overloaded, and we all ducked down as it exploded. And then there was silence.

"I think that was the last of them." Garrus said, clearly relaxing. "I'm gonna run over to the other side of the veranda and check for stragglers. Then I'll meet you back here."

He started running, and for whatever reason I felt a cold pit in my stomach. Things were quiet. Too quiet. And that was too easy. Almost like we'd forgotten-

 _Shit._

The gunship caught us all by surprise, and had its minigun spooled up before we eve knew how to react. It opened fire on Garrus, who took several shots as he dove for cover. Somehow, he was still on his feet. But then the missile salvo struck the veranda, and I saw his body fly through the air. He landed on the ground, hard, and a small pool of blood was forming under his jaw.

"GARRUS!" I heard Sis scream in horror and rage, and within moments she was firing on the gunship. It did little but bounce off the shields.

"What the hell? I thought you took those offline!" I roared at Zaeed. He blinked once, no doubt realizing that my voice was my own, and then spoke up.

"Must not have pulled out enough! Oh, rather, I pulled out the right ones for the wrong place for Shepard to shoot at!"

"Like where? The rotors?" I asked sarcastically. But then I glanced at the helo, and saw that there was a small pocket that was not covered by a self-emitting mass effect field.

Right in between the rotors.

I weighed my options. No matter what I did, eventually she would find out. But if I hesitated, then she wouldn't have enough time to save her friend. And I wasn't about to let that happen, no matter what came afterwords.

"Sis!" I barked. "Aim for the rotors!"

She didn't look back, too submuerged in adrenaline and vengeance, and switched out weapons to the massive grenade launcher she kept on her back. One after the other, she opened fire on the undefended rotors. Each shot somehow hit the mark, and within moments the helo was falling out of the sky and somewhere into the abyss below. Then there was an explosion, and then there was quiet.

Quiet save for Garrus' hoarse breathing.

"Garrus!" Sis ran to his side, and started giving him CPR of a sort. Miranda went to her omnitool, frantically trying to get in touch with someone. A "Joker" of some sort, to get the landing rover ready and for God's sake bring Drs Solus and Chakwas with you this is an emergency. Zaeed wisely got out of the way.

I looked at my sister, who was hysterically frittering away the moments she needed to spend stabilizing her friend, not crying for him to hang on. Words only do so much. Actions were needed.

And while my Sis was a damn good soldier, I had always prided myself on being a better medic than her.

I knelt down beside the downed Turian, and assessed the damage.

"First thing you need is to stabilize his vitals." I said in a robotically calm voice. "Apply medigel to the site of the wound."

"Right." She responded as though she'd heard the order, but not the voice giving it. With a flick of her wrist, she had it applied.

"Keep an eye on his body temps. Remember that he's a Turian and not human; it has different thresholds than ours does."

"Right. Checking now." She observed her omnitool. "All clear."

"And keep his head straight and up, looking at the stars. We don't know if he's suffered a neck or head injury. Play it safe and let the professionals take it from here."

"Right. Right." She said. She did as I suggested, and then checked her omnitool. "He's got a few minutes before things nosedive."

"By then the doctors will have him. You've done all you can." I said. I cleared my throat, and took the second-greatest leap of faith in my life. "Good work, Sis."

"Thanks, Bro." She said absently, as though she was half-lucid.

But then she did a double take.

The entire world seemed to go quiet. Even Garrus' breathing was muted. I heard Zaeed cough in confusion. But Miranda found her words.

"…Bro?"

Sis looked at her, confusion reigning on her face, and only then did she finally seem to realize that there really was someone else there with her at Garrus' side. Slowly, shakily, she turned her head around to face me. Completely lucid. Completely aware.

And for the first time in seven years, Jane Shepard and I made eye contact.

There was a pause that lasted an eternity. She looked like she was in shock, disbelief, and her eyes seemed watery. I wondered if she was going to cry.

"…John?" She managed to choke out.

I did the only thing I could.

I pressed a button, deactivating my mask, and tossed it to the side with a clatter that seemed to echo for an eternity in this silence. Her eyes met my own. I gave a weak smile, and spoke the only words I could think of.

"Hey, Janey."

A/N: Let the games begin! Figured I'd keep MaleShep's name simple. Anything else might have bordered on the absurd, I think.


	6. Reunion

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

In retrospect, I got off lucky that she only decided to punch me in the face.

But as I lay on the ground, my head throbbing and what felt like half of my face on fire and in pain, I realized something: that had really _hurt._ Janey and I had tussled around every now and then, especially when she had first broken into the N7 program and how excited she was to start learning CQC. And seeing as how I was, in her words, "nigh-indestructible," I had been *volunteered* to be her sparring partner. So, I suppose you could say, if I had an over-inflated sense of self worth, the reason the great Commander Shepard was so good at hand-to-hand combat was because I was her training partner.

But after taking that hit, one of two possibilities came to mind. Either my self-imposed exile from regulated military life had _really_ degraded my abilities…or something had changed with my sis. That didn't feel like a punch. It felt like I'd taken a piston to the side of the face.

I then became aware that she was straddling me, raining down a flurry of slaps and punches to any part of me that was exposed. Considering I had no shielding and no tactical advantage, I had to just cover up my head and hope that she got tired of beating up on me and went away. It took a lot longer than I would have liked. At least she didn't stomp on my knee.

"Shepard!" I heard Miranda's voice, and within moments she was pulled off of me. Zaeed had gotten up behind the commander, and had managed to lock her into a modified sleeper hold. Judging by the way he was turning red and then purple, it was clear that she was clearly his physical superior and was powering her way out of the chokehold.

SLAP.

Miranda was even braver than he was: she'd run up and slapped Sis straight across the cheek with enough force that _I_ felt it. I heard Sis snarl like some sort of feral animal, but then she stopped fighting, and Zaeed let go of the hold. Sis was on her knees, looking at Miranda with a combination of adrenaline-fueled rage and exasperation, and then she realized that Garrus was still gurgling on the ground.

" _Fuck!_ " She ran over to him, unceremoniously pushing me out of the way. "Garrus, hold on!" She turned to Miranda. "Where the _fuck_ is Joker?"

At that moment, a small shuttle came flying in through the sky, and parked itself up right next to the balcony. The door to the shuttle opened, and two figures jumped out. One of them was Dr. Mordin Solus, the Salarian doctor I'd met a few times in the lower wards of Omega. The other was an aging woman who must have been the Doctor Chakwas that Miranda had called for on the communicator. They got Garrus up and off the ground, and brought him into the shuttle. Within moments, they had him hooked up to every IV and life support machine imaginable.

"Must move, Commander!" Doctor Solus shouted. "Vitals dropping. Must get Archangel to emergency clinic on Normandy! Immediately!" I hadn't ever heard Doctor Solus get that frantic: Garrus must be in worse shape than he looked.

Without a word, Sheaprd leapt up into the shuttle, and was soon situated right next to Chakwas and looking over Garrus. Miranda turned to look at me, and gave me the most hateful, condescending look any human has ever given. But then she got on the ship, too. I was about to turn around and walk away when I felt a rough hand on my shoulder.

"Let's go, Doc!"

Zaeed had grabbed me, and threw me in with the rest of them, and covered the rear just in case there were mercs that had been lying in wait. The door to the shuttle closed, and within moments we were racing through the station towards parts unknown.

…

It was the most awkward ride of my life, even worse than the time that I had to drive Janey home from her ex's house back in high school. Aside from the steady beeping of the machines that they'd hooked Garrus up to, and the labored yet steady breathing of the Turian himself, not a sound was heard. Chakwas and Solus were frightening to watch. The way that they played off of each other and the way that they were able to read each others' suggestions and decisions without even a verbal communication was eerie and amazing. I felt like I was watching Picasso and Da Vinci painting together in the same room.

"Mr. Massani, I don't believe the terms of your contract included recruitment."

Oh yeah, just because it was quiet didn't mean that the elephant in the room wasn't gonna start trumpeting soon enough.

Zaeed gave a crooked glance at Miranda, and shrugged dramatically.

"Well, Ms. Lawson, I'm afraid that in all the hullabaloo and Garrus here getting half of his fucking face blown off, I guess I forgot that I'm not supposed to be recruiting people for our fight against the Collectors-"

"Not another word!" Miranda hissed. Zaeed looked at her, and then looked at me, and feigned a look of horror.

"Oops. Must be the shock talking. Guess I can't help but spill the bloody beans when, again, I witness a man get his fucking face blown off."

"Request self-censorship." Dr. Solus said. "Quips are, while understandable given nature, distracting to medical work."

Zaeed snorted, but fell silent. Miranda turned her gaze over to me.

"Don't think I've forgotten your presence here, _Doc Halladay._ " She practically spat the name like it was an epithet. "As soon as Mr. Vakarian here is stabilized we will be ejecting you from the Normandy, to crawl back into your hole on Omega where you bel-"

"No."

Everyone, except the doctors, turned to look at Sis. She'd finally spoken, and her tone was cold as ice. She looked at Miranda, and I could feel the raven-haired woman shrinking under Janey's gaze. And then, because it was just my luck, she turned that hellish gaze towards me. The scars on her face and around her eyes seemed to glow in the red light of the shuttle interior.

"He goes on the Normandy, to the brig. No one is to interact with him, no one is to acknowledge his presence. If I so much as hear someone mention his name without my clearance, they are to be ejected from the ship. Until I decide what to do with him, that's where Doc Halladay stays."

To be perfectly honest, the fact that I was getting thrown in the brig wasn't that big of a deal. I've been in Alliance prisons before, mostly for getting in rough-housing fights with my buddies in the service. Grunts tend to be more volatile, or some shit like that. I could deal with that.

No, what bothered me was the fact that she hadn't even used my name. That hurt.

…

The shuttle clearly had docked with whatever the larger ship was. I'm gonna guess that it was the Normandy, or whatever the hell the name of their ship was. As soon as the shuttle docked, Zaeed grabbed a burlap bag and shoved it over my head. I didn't resist; as far as they knew, I was an enemy combatant. He grabbed me by the crook of the elbow, and led me onto the ship. I heard the sound of a gurney getting rolled down the hall ahead of me, and knew that it was Garrus that was being dealt with. Soon, the other footsteps faded away, and I knew that the only person still with me was Zaeed. He could have been an asshole the way he led me through the hallways, and considering his normal disposition, I would not have put it past him. But he was surprisingly fair.

The elevator ride down, however, was sheer torture.

Finally, I was led into a small room, and the burlap bag was taken off of my head. It looked like your typical interrogation room: tiny, windowless, and a single table with a little light dangling over the top of it. There was a small chair for me to sit in, and Zaeed let me sit in it under my own power. He looked at me, and shrugged.

"See you on the other side, Doc." He said somewhat apologetically.

He shut the door, leaving me in silence.

I sat there for what felt like an eternity. I could not hear anything except for the gentle hum of the ship's drive core. We hadn't left whatever docking station we were attached to yet; the ship still felt like it was held in place and didn't have that "weightless" sensation you felt if a ship was drifting in FTL travel or otherwise. Then I heard something. It was like a whispering sound, and I looked towards it.

"Come out." I said.

There was a small _whoosh_ sound, and the figure decloaked.

She was hooded, and looked Asian. Maybe Japanese? I didn't know, and I wasn't about to piss her off by asking and getting it wrong. Her eyes were barely visible beneath that hood, and she was dressed in all-black. There seemed to be an amused glint in her eyes. I looked at her with a straight face, and I spoke.

"If you're my torturer I have a warning: I'm a screamer."

"What? Oh goodness, ew! Gonna need some brain bleach." She said. She shook her head furiously. "With a sense of humor like that, no wonder your sister is pissed at you. I wouldn't recommend keeping it up when she comes to talk to you."

"How do you know-"

"Sweetie, I know everything on this ship. Even if Janey thinks she's kept something hidden from me…I know about it."

"Don't call her that."

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, but I guess I'm not a fan of people calling my sister something that I called her all the time…and now for all I know she won't even address me by name. So yeah, I guess I'm a little bitter.

"Ohhhhkay. Guess I touched a nerve. I'll start over. Kasumi Goto, greatest thief in the galaxy and contracted to serve your sister in the great fight against galactic evil!...Or something like that." She held out her hand. "What's your name? Your *real* name, not the silly pseudonym you concocted during your time on Omega." She smirked. "Though Roy Halladay _was_ an excellent player. I think I stole and then sold off the ball he recorded the final out of his no-hitter with."

"It was a perfect game." I correct her.

"I said what I said for a reason." She said. It takes me a moment to figure it out.

"You _didn't._ "

"Might've. Might be pulling your leg." She winks. "Anyway. Name. What is it?"

"John." I say. I pause. It's the first time I've said that in years. "My name's John Shepard. Mmhm. That's my name."

"Feels good to stop lying, doesn't it?" Kasumi asks. She looked at me with a serious face. "And I'm not one to judge, seeing as how my profession tends to skirt on the wrong end of the moral side, but I've never been a habitual liar. Especially to someone who I care about. So when that door opens, and whomever opens it shows their face, I think it would be wise if you don't lie and let the truth have its day. Deal?" I nod, but then I think of something.

"Wait, how did you get in here?"

"I'm a thief, silly. This place is nothing to me." I'm about to say something, but then she presses a button on her omnitool and fades away into invisibility. And that's when the door opens.

…

She's standing there in the doorway, and then closes it behind her. She's taken off her armor, and is wearing a pair of jeans and an N7 hoodie. Despite being in fatigues, she still has her hair wrapped up in that perfect little Alliance bun that she had for her graduation picture. She's staring at me, with a completely blank expression on her face. She's holding something, but I can't see what it is.

"Stand up." Her voice is cold and completely robotic. I listen to her, ignoring the shooting pain in my leg. It's been almost a day now without meds for the joint; it's a miracle that I can even get up on my feet. I look her in the eye, and clear my throat.

"Jane, I-"

With speed faster than any human should be capable of, she closes the gap. I flinch badly, half expecting her to pull my head off of my shoulders, or smash my teeth in through my throat. Or even just stomp on my aching knee. Any of those outcomes would be expected and even understandable.

Which is why I am completely caught by surprise when she grabs me in the tightest bearhug I have ever been put in in my life.

For the longest time, she doesn't let go. I'm barely able to breathe. Maybe this is her way of getting revenge: murder by anaconda vice. No jury would convict.

"The last time I saw you, I was bawling my eyes out because no matter what I told you, you wouldn't listen to me." She said, speaking so quietly that it was almost impossible to hear her. "You wouldn't listen to me when I said that you were making the biggest mistake of your life, that running away from things wasn't going to save you."

"I was trying to save y-"

"I died, John." She said. "I. _Died._ " She wields each syllable like a cudgel, as if she's trying to emphasize it and come to terms with it herself. "So whatever bullshit reason you came up with to justify walking out of me and mom's lives…it's invalid." She took a deep breath, as if to steady herself, and continued. "I hated you, John. Hated what you did to us for years. Hated the fact that I couldn't save you. Hated the fact that nothing I said got through to you. And I hated the fact that whatever had happened on that little mining colony killed my big brother. You might've been alive, but the guy who was always at my back was gone. And I was determined to hold that grudge for the rest of my life. And I did."

Words couldn't describe the cold I felt with those last three words.

"But then I woke up in a medical facility, on some faraway ship in a star cluster I don't even remember. I was alive again, like a modern-day Lazarus, and I realized what a fool I'd been. Life is too precious and too short to hate forever. Even your own flesh and blood. And amongst the hazy, swimming memories that slowly came back, you were one of the first people I thought of. And I wondered where you were and I prayed that you were alive."

She loosened the embrace, and I give out a gasp of air. She really had me good. She looks me in the eye.

"You always told me that I was too idealistic for my own good. And maybe you're right. Because every fiber of my being is telling me to just throw your ass out now. Throw you out into space, and lie when mom asks me if I ever came across Johnny in my many travels. Every little bit of my being, down to my soul, is telling me to hate you…and I'm telling you right now that _I forgive you anyway._ " Her eyes burned a hole into my very core. "Don't think that this means things are back to normal, John. You were gone for _seven years,_ two of which I was dead for. Mom doesn't know you're alive. Admiral Anderson doesn't know you're alive. According to Miranda, _she didn't know_ you were alive." She pulled me back into another embrace, though this one seemed more like a possessive cling. "Part of me keeps wanting to hold on because I think I'm hallucinating, and that you're not actually there. And then when I let go, you'll disappear. Again. I can't lose you again, Johnny. I…I can't."

Somehow, impressively, she manages to make me feel exponentially more horrible about myself with every word. Quite a feat.

She let go completely, and composed herself.

"John, I never expected things to be this way. And I'm not going to lie: you've _really_ thrown a wrench into what…ever the plan was that I had going into this. But the only other option would be to dump you off at the next planet dock we come across, and I'm not about to let you go so soon after I've seen you again for the first time…in my life, if we're being technical."

I feel a cold pit in my gut.

"Janey, you don't want me with you. I'll just cause trouble."

She looks at me, and whatever softness that was in her features over the past minute or so evaporates into cold, business-like professionalism.

"You don't have a choice." She said. "Officially, you are my prisoner. And since there is no government that is trying to extradite you, then that means that I decide your fate." She folded her arms across her chest. "You're with me for the foreseeable future, _bro._ There's no worming your way out of this."

I sigh. She's honest-to-god pulling rank and file on me. That, plus the mother of all guilt complexes. She must take me for a fool for this to work.

"Fine."

A fool I be.

A ghost of a smile appears on her lips.

"Good." She said. "Though I didn't expect you to say no, anyway. Now that you're on my team, I can fill you in on some of the details: we're going on a mission through the Omega-4 Relay."

I stare at her, and the look on her face just screams that she's waiting for me to process those words. Sadistic, Sis sure is.

"…Omega-4?"

"Yup."

"No ship has ever gone through that and come out again."

"I'm aware."

"…And you're taking this ship through there?"

"Not right now, of course." Sis said. "But it will happen. And if I'm going to die for the sake of the galaxy's greater good, I'd rest a little easier knowing that my brother got dragged along with me."

"Jane, forget it."

"You don't get that choice." Sis said, her frown returning. "You forfeited all sympathy and benefit of the doubt when you walked out of our lives. You've stumbled back into mine; you're going to have to work off the time. A suicide mission…live or die, I think that's a fair trade for seven years as a vagrant. Don't you?"

I say nothing, and the silence says everything for me all the same. She nods slowly.

"Okay, good to hear. But I'm not just welcoming you back into my open arms and on my team. There are ground rules." She said.

"…Ground rules?" I ask. She nods.

"Yup. First, you meet with Doctor Chakwas for a physical. I need to know what your status is, physically. I don't know what the hell you've been up to for the last seven years, but if that limp you're trying to hide is any indication, you haven't exactly been taking it easy. Next comes a meeting with Doctor Solus. He'll be inoculating you against any diseases and the like, so if you haven't had your vaccines updated…you'll be getting them here."

"That's it?" I ask. Sis just laughed.

"You wish. From there, depending on Dr. Chakwas' analysis, you will tested on basic firearms training and procedure. Fieldwork, that sort of thing. And finally, you will begin the first of a series of regular meetings with our yeoman and on-ship psychiatrist, Kelly Chambers."

That last one threw me for a loop. And it made me mad.

"No. I'm not seeing a fucking shrink."

She looked at me, and each of her words were positively venomous.

"Yes you will. Because, y'see, I remember you saying that. You said _exactly_ the same thing to Mom and I after Torfan. And the last time you said that – word for fucking word – you disappeared for seven years and I am _not_ letting you run off again. This is for your own good."

We stared at each other silently for what felt like an eternity. I was matching her cold expression, but even I knew that I wasn't going to keep her forever. So I just sighed and resigned myself to my fate.

"Fine. When does this all begin?"

"Tomorrow." She said. "Or, rather, whatever time it will be 24 hours from now. We're leaving Omega to do some basic mining and mineral resource scavenging. Perfect timing for you to get your testing in." She shrugged. "We don't have a space for you on the ship…so Zaeed has offered to let you bunk in the same area of the ship as him."

"Awfully nice of him." I said.

"Yeah." Sis said, but in a manner that suggested that there was more to it than that. I knew that tone, and no matter who spoke it…eventually the truth would come out eventually. But right now I was too tired and too annoyed and in too much pain to care about anything like that. So I just nodded. Sis cleared her throat.

"That's about it. I need to take care of a few things. Your physical is tomorrow afternoon, so you can sleep in if you want. You look like you need to catch up a bit on your beauty sleep." She offered a small smile. "Zaeed's quarters are down the hall and the last door on the right. It's…it's good to see you again, John." But then her smile disappeared. "I should go."

She always said that, and just like that she was gone. I stayed in that room for a little bit longer, thinking everything over. But ultimately I realized that I was developing a case of claustrophobia, and I needed to get out of there. I didn't really pay attention to the interior of the ship as I walked down the hall. If I had, I guess I would have been bowled over by the sheer impressive scale of it all. But I wasn't concerned about that.

I was concerned about finding something, _anything_ that would numb the pain in my knee.

…

I opened the door to the room. It took me a moment to recognize that it was right next to the garbage compactor. I was literally sleeping next to trash. Somehow this felt appropriate.

Zaeed was sitting back in a chair at the far end of the room, his feet kicked up on the desk. He was out of his armor now, and had opted for a sleeveless white shirt and dark grey sweatpants. Without his armor, the massive tattoos that covered his upper arms were clear and present. He was also, to put it bluntly, fucking ripped for a man of his age. Either he was on the gear…or I hoped that there was a deity out there that let me look that good when I was his age.

He was fiddling with something, most likely cleaning a rifle sight, when he looked up and saw me.

"Hello Doc." He said, looking back down at the sight he was cleaning. I sighed.

"You know that's not my name."

"Yeah, I know." He said. "But now that there's two Shepards on this ship, I figure I better figure out some way to tell the bloody difference." He took a moment to study me again, and let out a low whistle. "You look like hell, mate. Here, this might help." He reached underneath and pulled open one of the drawers of his desk. Within moments, he'd pulled out a bottle of dark liquid, and what looked like a cigar box.

"Want anything?" Zaeed asked. I nodded.

"Yeah. Gimme a shot and then a light."

"Done." Zaeed said, pushing his chair (it was wheeled) over towards me and handing me the bottle and a shot glass. As soon as I'd taken the shot (it was some kind of brandy. Burny stuff), he handed me a cigar and flicked open his lighter. "Don't hog the stuff, dammit. I had to pay out the nose for these." He took a light of his own, and soon enough a small haze of cigar smoke started to fill the room.

Almost immediately, a blue holographic…well, it didn't look like a VI…popped up by a nearby outlet.

" _Specialist Massani, it is dangerous for your long-term health to be smoking on a ship._ "

"Oh, go find another light socket to plug into." Zaeed grumbled. "Just turn on the air filters in this room so that Doc and I don't suffocate."

The figure winked in affirmation, and disappeared.

"What was that?" I asked.

"That's EDI. Don't know what it stands for, so don't ask." Zaeed said. "She's the AI that runs the Normandy. Quite the goddamn trooper, she is, puttin' up with all of us."

"This ship has an AI?" I asked. "Isn't that against Alliance regs?"

Zaeed stared at me, a shark-like grin forming on his face. He seemed awfully amused.

"What?" I asked. "What's so funny?"

"Who said this was an Alliance ship?" Zaeed asked, grinning with the cigar clenched in his teeth. "The Normandy SR2 got commissioned by _Cerberus._ We're workin' for _Cerberus,_ Doc."

I stared at him blankly. For a very, very, very long time. Finally, I spoke.

"Gimme another shot."

Zaeed laughed, and reached for the bottle of brandy. As I downed another cup, only one thing was on my mind.

When I was done with my "evaluations," Sis had a _**lot**_ of explaining to do.

A/N: And now the true plot of "Blessed Be The Peacemakers" _really_ begins. Hope you enjoy it moving forward.

As an aside, I love writing Zaeed Massani. Criminally underrated performance by the late, great Robin Sachs.


	7. House Calls

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

I woke to the sounds of music.

It wasn't too fancy or, thank god, loud and obnoxious. There was something somewhat eerie about the singer's voice. Very old-school synthesizers and drum machines. Could only be one guy.

I blinked my eyes open, and turned my head over to the right. Zaeed was sitting there on the far side of the room, fully dressed up again. I didn't know what time it was, but clearly he'd been up for a while. He was busy tinkering with something at the desk, and right next to him was an old radio. A _real_ radio, not one of those holographic projectors that masqueraded as a radio: this thing had a cassette deck and everything.

 _Oh no! Not me._

 _I never lost control._

 _You're face…to face…_

 _With the Man who Sold the World._

"Sleep well, Doc?" Zaeed asked, swiveling around in his chair. He was tinkering with something that looked like the inner workings of a rifle. Might've been a Vindicator, but I wasn't sure. Hard to tell what a gun is when you just see the skeletal inner workings. I grunted. Zaeed chuckled. "Hope my tunes didn't wake you up too goddamn early."

"No, you're fine. They're an improvement from Afterlife." I admitted, rotating my shoulder. It felt sore. Great. Now I had another thing for Dr. Chakwas to rip apart in my upcoming physical. I raised an eyebrow. "The song seems a little bit familiar, though. What is it, Stardust Kidz?"

" _Bah!_ What is that, a decade old?" Zaeed snorted. "Nah, this is Midge goddamn Ure, junior. From almost two fucking centuries ago. Itself a cover of an old David Bowie record."

"Oh, I remember David Bowie."

"I damn well hope so." Zaeed snorted. "The bastard is real goddamn popular with other aliens. Reeeeeeal ahead of his time, I suppose." He looked at me, and had a serious expression on his face. "You doin' alright, Doc? I'm guessin' they're gonna put you through the goddamn ringer to make sure you're up to snuff."

"I can handle it." I said, wincing as I ignored the pounding in my head. I'd had too much to drink the night before. Zaeed nodded solemnly.

"I goddamn hope so. It'd be a shame to have to kick you to the curb."

I guess that was his way of being supportive.

I noticed that, in the night, after I'd changed into whatever the hell they called "pajamas" (which were little more than a Cerberus logo-covered tee shirt and sweatpants), someone had washed my clothes and duster. Might've been Zaeed, but I doubted it. So I assumed it was that EDI thing. Or maybe one of the flunkies on the ship. Either way, my clothes were clean. For the first time in who knows how long. Diana had washed my stuff every now and then, but there was a big difference between Omega clean and…this.

Same went for the shower. God, I hadn't had a good wash like this in…well, in years. I stayed in there for a while. I know I might've drawn too much of the hot water, and that the next person in there would have to suffer in the cold or cut theirs short. I didn't give a damn.

After getting changed back into my regular clothes (Zaeed had wandered off somewhere. Most likely to the firing range that he claimed was in the shuttle bay), I made my way to the elevator. As I was about to reach the door, one of the nearby terminals lit up blue and I was staring at the same avatar that I had seen the day before.

" _Greetings, John Shepard. A friendly reminder: you have an appointment with Dr. Chakwas, Dr. Solus and-_ "

"Yeah, yeah. I know." I muttered. It was still profoundly weird and more than a little bit uncomfortable to be talking to an AI. All through basic, I had heard the horror stories of what an AI could do, especially an unshackled one. Considering how badly Vis could malfunction, I shudder to think what would happen if things went awry with this thing. After all, an AI is simply a more-evolved VI…with the creativity of a sentient being. Not a good combination.

" _Where would you like to go to first? I can program the elevator to move at a brisker pace for you._ "

"It's an elevator." I said, staring at the avatar with an increasing sense of annoyance.

" _With all due respect, John Shepard, members of the crew and of Commander Shepard's team have complained about the abnormally slow movement speed of the Normandy's elevators. I would imagine you would have a similar response to the issue._ "

I'll be damned. The computer was mocking me.

" _That was a joke._ "

"Yeah, yeah. Just take me to Dr. Solus." I said. I figured that getting a bunch of shots wasn't going to be a bad thing, and it wouldn't take that long.

…

I was wrong on both counts.

I sat there on the operating table, rubbing at my arm, which was starting to become numb from the sheer number of times that Dr. Solus had pricked me with all of those goddamn needles he kept in this place. It seemed like he was doing it less for my own health and more for his own personal study. At least, that's how it felt with the frequent mutterings and recording into his omnitool.

"Fascinating. Fascinating. Bloodstream maintaining proper production despite…copious self-medication. No major defects, though further bloodwork will clarify."

It was like I wasn't even there, and he was simply studying a cadaver or something.

"Liver in below-average condition, but proper medicine to counteract alcohol possible. Will run further tests."

"Solus!" I finally barked, having lost my patience. He paused, and slowly looked up at me. He tsked softly.

"Outbursts of annoyance most likely connected to subpar sleep cycles. Would suggest maintaining a healthy cycle on the Normandy. Much better than Omega, in personal opinion." He looked at me and smiled. "Rather sturdy, Shepard." He frowned. "Though presence of multiple 'Shepards' could lead to confusion with crew." He furrowed his brow, or did the Salarian equivalent. "Have any nicknames or otherwise?"

"Doc." I said, shrugging. "I mean, I had a code-name for the unit I was assigned to…in Torfan." I said. "But, uh, that probably won't be necessary."

"Hm. Intriguing." Mordin tapped his chin in thought. "Doc for Doc Holliday. Famed 19th century American gunfighter. Had…similar disposition to alcohol consumption, though no signs of tuberculosis or otherwise in your system. So similarities end there."

I wanted to tell him that that wasn't whom I was referring to, but before I could get in a word edgewise he was going off again.

"But 'Doc' confusing by nature of multiple doctors on Normandy. Doctor Chakwas, for example. Myself included. Chambers, technically, qualifies. Perhaps might need to research code-name. Are records de-classified?" He turned towards me. I shrugged.

"Hell if I know."

That was a bald-faced lie. In the aftermath of Torfan, they'd gone and declassified everything, save the discreet Turian involvement. After all, plausible deniability. And if the doctor wanted to go digging, he'd find out what my code name was. But I wasn't about to tell him myself. If he wanted it so bad, he could go looking himself. He nodded.

"Understood. Will conduct further research. For now, consider this clean bill of health. Future results in bloodwork might result in diagnosis of medication, though unlikely to be major. You visited clinic frequently, after all."

That was true. Amongst everything else, I made a point to stop by Dr. Solus' clinic on Omega as much as I could. He even hired me for security on a part-time basis. Hey, all that booze and all those chems didn't pay for themselves, and neither did my (admittedly microscopic) rent.

…

"Alright, let's see what the damage is."

What Dr. Solus had in accidentally (or perhaps obfuscatingly accidental) snide humor, Dr. Chakwas was far more overt about her sarcasm and mannerisms. I had a feeling I'd grow to like her…if she wasn't so brutally honest.

I took off my shirt, and ignored the one nurse intern's sigh. Chakwas gave a stern look to the young lady, and then turned back towards me and began dictating things for the young lady to write.

"Multiple bruises and contusions along the lower abdomen, in varying states of healing. Assorted scars across the chest. No obvious signs of muscular dystrophy. Hold out your arms, please."

I did as she asked.

"Numerous scars, both prominent and fading, across the knuckles and hands. A bit of bare-knuckle brawler, John?" She asked, making eye contact with me and giving a sly look. I shrugged.

"You should see the other guys."

"I'm sure there were days that _you_ were the other guy." She replied. "Judging by the way your nose is crooked, I'd say more often than not you _were_ the other guy."

Damn. Bitch was cold.

"Assorted tattoos across the upper body and arms." She looked at the serpentine tattoo that went from the edge of my clavicle and snaked all the way down to my wrist. "That must've taken a while…and hurt."

It did, and oh god did it ever.

She made me put my shirt back on, and then I had to drop my pants. I _was_ wearing underwear, but that intern's face went red as a tomato all the same.

"Janet, have you never seen a boy's undergarments before?" Dr. Chakwas asked, somewhat incredulously and amused at the same time. "It's not like John here is deformed in some way."

Now I was the one fighting off the urge to be embarrassed.

"Though that knee brace is something else." She said, looking at it. "Mind if I take it off and test the joint?"

She did, and it failed.

"Hmm. I'd imagine that there's multiple tears and shoddy healings going on in there. As well as bone fragments and maybe even arthritis." She gestured to one of the machines in the back of the medical center. "Thankfully we have some surgical centers that are top of the line in reconstructive knee repair." She looked at me. "I hope you have good health insurance."

She then burst into a fit of giggles.

"Oh, goodness the look on your face was priceless. Relax, Cerberus is paying for everything, so I'm not opposed to using the most expensive procedures in putting you back together. After all, they did it for your sister."

That got me thinking.

"So…she was really-"

"Yes." Dr. Chakwas said, her face falling. "I was at the funeral. They had a closed casket, because no one could find the body and even if they had I doubt Hannah could have beared seeing the sight of her baby. Bodies that re-enter atmospheres tend to look…well, you can use your imagination." She looked at me and frowned. "I hope you realize how lucky you are, son. Most people don't have the luxury of a second chance at reconciling with their loved ones after the loved one dies."

"Jane and I are on the path."

"Are you? Really." She said it in a way that suggested she didn't believe a word of what I'd just said. "I'm not an expert on family psychology, but I imagine that there's going to be a few ups and downs moving forward between you two."

Well, _that_ was sure comforting.

"I'll schedule an MRI of your knee for when you're done with Yeoman Chambers. It's a bit of a long few days ahead for you before you get full clearance for combat, I'm afraid." She said. "Now go on; I'm sure that your sister is waiting for you to get that psych eval."

"I hate shrinks." I said, not bothering to hide my disdain.

"Drop the attitude, Jonathan." Dr. Chakwas said. I winced; somehow I was getting flashbacks to whenever Mom scolded me. "Remember your place and where you are. You are technically a prisoner of the Normandy, and by extension of Cerberus. You might want to try being a little thankful that you haven't been spaced yet."

I leave the room with a little bit of a skip in my step. I didn't want to risk finding out what she'd do to me if she _really_ got mad.

…

The psych eval room I recognized as a typical briefing room, the kind that ship commanders dragged their XOs into for debriefings and the like. I had only really seen one: the debriefing room of the _Tecumseh Sherman_ , the ship that carried my unit and I to Torfan. This one blew it out of the water.

There were three people in the room: Sis, Miranda, and another lady. She was a pretty one, with fiery red hair and grey-blue eyes. I could also tell that she was a bit of spritely one: while Miranda was still radiating cold and Sis was positively neutral, this Yeoman Chambers (which is what I assumed) seemed like she was bouncing up and down on her toes for the eval. Great. Just what I need. An enthusiastic psychiatrist.

"Dr. Chambers will be giving you a questionnaire." Miranda said. "As well as a complete psychiatric mark-up. Answer every question honestly: there are no right or wrong answers."

I just stared at her, and then at Sis, with my best "I got it, now get the fuck out" stare I could muster. Miranda made a slightly disgusted noise in the back of her throat, and followed Sis out the door. Yeoman Chambers gestured for me to have a seat across from her at the table, and I shuffled over and took a seat. Time to get this shit out of the way.

…

"Okay…this won't be so bad." Chambers said. She gave me a smile. "My name's Yeoman Kelly Chambers, but you can just call me Kelly."

"Yeoman's part of your name? That's dumb."

Her smile faded a bit into confusion.

"Er…no. It's my title on the ship. But I guess that is an understandable mistake to make. I sort of set myself up for that one."

"You did."

I guess I was going to be as brusque as possible. I noticed that she was typing things into her omnitool as we spoke.

"You recording this?" I asked.

"Yup! Just for secondary analysis." She said. "Now, let's begin. State your name for the record?"

"Jonathan Mercer Shepard."

"Occupation?"

"None."

"Age?"

"33."

Great. It was gonna be one of _those_ tests. The first set of the test was mind-numbingly inane. Answering questions. Role-play. Scenario and conflict resolution. Those were a bit more interesting.

"You find a credit chit on the side of the street, and no one claims it. No one suggests that they have lost it or are looking for it. What do you do?"

"Take it. Might be useful."

She studiously made a note. Finally, we came towards what I assumed was the end of the test.

"Okay, John. We're going to play a game of word association. I say something, and I want you to give me a single-word response. Do you understand?"

"I do."

Let's just get this shit over with, lady. She looked at me and began.

"Soldier?"

"Cog."

"Alliance?"

"Machine."

This was easy.

"Salarian?"

Hm, now we were getting somewhere.

"Crafty."

"Turian?"

"Headstrong."

"Hanar?"

"Jellyfish."

"Asari?"

"Manipulation."

"Batarian?"

"Fodder."

I noticed that she seemed a little pale from that last one.

"Okay…we're almost done." She said. "Just a few more."

"I'm ready."

"Murder?"

"Employment."

"Cerberus?"

"Hades."

"Torfan?"

…

…

…

"…Torfan?"

…

I say the only thing that comes to mind.

" _Done._ "

And I walk away.

…

I'm sitting in my cot, staring at the ceiling, when that little terminal next to the bed lights up.

" _John Shepard, the Commander wishes to speak to you where you first met her on the ship."_

I look over at Zaeed. He's got some reading glasses on and is reading something. I spot the name of the author. Lee Child. I don't recognize it.

"Good luck, Doc." He said, leafing through one of the pages without looking up. "A shot of brandy and a cigar in it for you when you're done."

…

She's standing in the spot where I was when we first met, and now I'm the one coming in through the door. I can appreciate the reversal of roles. She's looking at a datapad, and starts talking when I enter.

"You know, I'm surprised that you didn't bite Chambers' head off, considering your initial reaction to my ordering of a psych eval." She began. I shrugged.

"Wouldn't wanna mess up that pretty face." I said. "…What can I say? I'm a sucker for a pretty lady."

"If that's the case, then how come you haven't gone googly-eyed for Miranda?" Sis asked. I scowl.

"I think if I propositioned her, she'd have her excuse to throw me out the airlock." I raised an eyebrow. "A bit unprofessional, isn't that?"

"What? I'll be one of the first to admit that Miranda is…quite a looker."

"Hey, Sis." I say, snapping my fingers in her face to get her attention again. "So was Chloe. And how'd that turn out?"

Chloe. That's the name of Sis' ex back in high school. What, did you think it'd be Chuck?

"Hey." Sis said, her eyes narrowing. "That's a low blow. And I was a teenager."

" _Anyway._ " I say, redirecting the conversation. "Just because two people hate each other doesn't mean they're about to kiss. And Miranda can go to hell. I'll keep a seat warm for her. God knows I'll be there waiting."

"Yeah…about that." Sis said. "Your medical records are…troubling yet expected. Have you really been self-medicating, Bro? And drinking that much?" She sighed. "I mean, you never were straight edge…but this is ridiculous. You have to cut back. How did this happen?"

"Things change. People change, Janey."

"And then there's your physical…or lack thereof, because Chakwas wouldn't clear you because of the condition of your knee. Surgery? Near-complete reconstructive procedure?" She shook her head. "You're lucky that things aren't being paid out of my pocket. The procedure that Karin recommends is _balls_ expensive…and then there's your psych report."

"Well? Did she recommend that I be thrown into a looney bin?" I ask. She gives me a stern look.

"No. But she did say that you exhibit signs of an abrasive, unscrupulous ass. Which isn't too far from when I last knew you." She said. "Well, except for the fact that you completely punted on the question about Torfan. You _know_ that that was the whole point of the eval. Why didn't you talk?"

"Because there's nothing to say, Jane."

"Really? I think there's a lot to say, considering it resulted in seven years of you running the fuck away from Mom and I." She closed the holopad. "John, you can't run away from that problem…from Torfan…forever. And I need your complete and undivided loyalty to what I'm asking of you. I'm asking you to run into hell with me. To even _die._ And that can only work if you've let go of your demons. And you _cannot_ run from Torfan. Even if you'd like to."

I have no words. I just stare.

"Johnny…it's ok. I'm here for you and I won't let go." She said. "And the mission isn't happening now. You have time. But at some point, you have to confront it." She cleared her throat. "For now, the basics. We're gonna be spending the next two weeks mining for materials and working on the Normandy. Then I'm gonna look for more people to recruit. During that time, my mission for you is to get that knee fixed tomorrow, recover, and get back to working speed by that time. If you can do that…then I promise I'll answer all of your questions…even why I'm working with Cerberus."

"Aren't you working _for_ them?" I ask.

I see her expression change. I see her eyes narrow.

"I'm working _with_ Cerberus."

And she walks away. She didn't tell me anything else.

But I smile because I know that, even in that response, she's told me everything I was hoping to hear.

A/N: What do you think? Drop a review if you can!


	8. Back in the Saddle

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

"It's a good thing I'm not claustrophobic."

"I would agree, Jonathan." Dr. Chakwas said. "I can't imagine you would be a fan of this machine otherwise."

It's the next morning, and I'm being inserted into this…machine that looks like a super-enhanced MRI, with the goal being to take a look at and then put back together whatever happened to my knee. I'm lying down on a little bed, with only my upper shoulders and above visible to the world. The rest of me is stuffed in this tube where it's at the mercy of whatever the hell kind of wires and scissors and needles and-

Maybe, for my own sanity, I'd better not think about that too hard.

"You're _sure_ that the joint is anesthesized?" I can't help but turn my head over and look at her, eliciting a stern response.

"Don't move around, Jonathan. It might throw off the machine's calculations. And yes, the area that is being operated on is fully anesthesized. You won't feel a thing…well, not until afterwards, when everything wears off."

Nearby, though I didn't look over in order to avoid another reprimand from Dr. Chakwas, I saw blue lighting in the corner.

" _It is my calculation that the surgical procedure will take the equivalent of four Earth hours._ "

"So I have to lie here for four hours while whatever the hell is going on to my leg?" I ask. I knew it was going to take a while but…still. Four hours. That was hell. I was starting to wonder whether I should have gone the old-fashioned way and been knocked out for the entire procedure. But then again, knowing Janey, she might not want me getting an addiction to the medicine afterwards. Or something. _Fuck,_ what am I gonna do with myself for four hours?

…

For the first hour or so, nothing of note. Doctor Chakwas was sitting at one of the computer terminals nearby the machine, guiding the various pieces and machines that were working on my joint. Periodically, I heard Dr. Solus come in frequently, until finally I saw out of the corner of my eye that he had taken a seat next to Dr. Chakwas, and the two of thme were both staring over the terminal with utmost concentration and hushed conversation. Great. One doctor clearly wasn't enough; now they needed two excellent medical minds to put together my knee. I must have _seriously_ fucked it up.

The door to the med-bay opened up with a hiss, and I heard a pair of footsteps. And then a familiar flanging voice.

"Dr. Chakwas…do you have-"

"Your medication is on the counter, in the red capsule." Dr. Chakwas said. "I'd love to stick around and chat, Garrus, but I'm afraid that this is requiring my full attention."

"Indeed. Condition of knee…fascinating."

Some days I just wanted to punch that lizard-faced bastard.

I heard a dry chuckle.

"I don't suppose it would bother you if I was with him?"

"By all means, go ahead." Dr. Chakwas said. "Just make sure that he doesn't move."

"As long as he makes sure that he doesn't make me laugh." Garrus' voice said. He took a seat next to me in a reclining chair, and with an exaggerated sigh leaned back as far as the chair could go. I made a silent vow that if he kicked his feet up against the machine that I was locked in, then I was kicking his ass.

I heard a pair of thumps on the side of the machine that sounded like boots making contact and then resting comfortably, and I started plotting my revenge.

"Comfortable in there, Doc?"

Okay, now he was just being a dick.

"About as comfortable as…" I trailed off as I got a look of Garrus' face. It looked like his entire cheek had been blown off, and was replaced with some sort of patch. A few prosthetics here and there, but there was no denying the damage that had been done to his right mandible. It was a wonder that he could even talk, and that I could understand him.

"…You're staring at the face, right? Tell me, how does it look? Shepard said that I was always ugly so that was no help, but I figured someone that isn't used to…what's the human expression, again? 'Busting my chops?' Yeah. I figured someone who isn't used to busting my chops might give a more honest answer." He pointed to his chin. "How do I look?"

I did my best to maintain a confused expression.

"Sorry, Archangel, I'd be able to give you a review if I even knew which side took the rocket."

He let out a bark of laughter, which immediately turned into a moan of pain as he grabbed his face with both hands and began to rock back and forth in the chair as if that would help dissuade it. He looked at me with a leery glare.

"Oh, that was just _cold,_ Doc. But then again, I suppose I should have expected that mocking old Garrus runs in the Shepard family." He raised an eyebrow. "So. You're her brother?"

I guess there was no point in denying it.

"Yep."

"Hmm." He made a little grunt in thought, and then nodded. "I take it that the two of you weren't exactly on the best terms?"

"If you count me disappearing for seven years and then showing up out of the blue to help save a friend's life…upon which I ate an uppercut, then I'd say no. We weren't exactly on the best of terms."

He nodded somewhat sympathetically.

"I know what that's like." He said quietly. "At least she's talking to you again. Don't take that for granted. Not everyone gets even that amount of a second chance."

From the look in his eyes, I could tell that he was speaking from personal experience, but I wasn't about to press. So I changed the conversation.

"You don't have to call me Doc, you know."

Garrus chuckled.

"And you don't have to call me Archangel. But it's what I knew you as for years, and I already call someone 'Shepard.' Think of it this way: at least it helps you stick out from the crowd, right?"

"You know we're over here, right?" Dr. Chakwas remarked. There was more mirth to her voice than annoyance: perhaps the surgery was going well? That was the best I could come up with. Garrus chuckled.

"Alright, I guess I'll call you 'John' in the presence of those two. But in the field, I guess Doc will work. Right?"

"What makes you think I'm going to get cleared for field duty?" I asked. He smirked, or at least tried to with his fucked up face.

"Because it takes more than dumb luck for someone who's strung out on booze and pills to survive several years in Omega with little to no armor and just a Predator. You've clearly got some talent at surviving."

I chose not to let him know what other things I was talented at. "Survival" might be the loosest interpretation of my skills that I have ever heard. Which reminded me…

"You've worked with Janey before?"

"Hah! That's the first time I've ever heard someone call her something other than 'Shepard' or 'Sir.'…er, 'Ma'am.' But you know what I mean." He said. I nodded, prompting him to continue. "I worked with her during the Eden Prime Geth invasion, as well as the attack on the Citadel. I was her long-range expert and chief weapons calibrator."

From the way he decribed the attack on the Citadel, I could tell that he was hiding something. He might have disguised it in his voice, but his eyes were hesitant. I bet if his face wasn't aching so bad, he migh've been able to hide that too. But I've gotten good at seeing when people lie. That's what you learn first in Omega, or you get shot by the first person that "smiles" at you.

"So you're saying that you were her sniper?" I asked. Garrus held up his hands as if to defer praise.

"I know, I know. It sounds a lot more refined the way I put it. But…yes. I was the sniper for our team. Damn good at what I do, if I do say so myself."

"You were holding off three mercenary teams pretty well, by my sight."

"Please." Garrus snorted. "That was me hopped up on stims, near-delirious from lack of sleep, and frayed nerves from dealing with the existential crisis of being trapped like a Vorcha in a blocked tunnel. You haven't seen me at my best, yet. And you're going to be glad that you're on our side when you do." He got up from his chair, and rapped the machine's side as if for good luck. "Keep hanging in there, Doc. Once you're done with this and you're cleared by the doctors, come stop by the shuttle bay. There's an impromptu firing range as well as a sparring sector. I'd like to see what you're capable of."

He walked away, leaving me to my confinement.

…

Some time later, I heard the door open and close. I heard a pair of voices. One of them was Sis. The other was vaguely familiar. Couldn't quite place it.

"Ooh, that looks rather uncomfortable."

Oh, right. It was that thief. What was her name? Kassy?

"Kasumi, it's not nice to antagonize someone in surgery." Sis chided.

Kasumi. Right.

"Having fun in there, Johnny Boy?" Kasumi asked. She was now sitting in the same chair that Garrus had been in, and was swinging her legs back and forth like a little kid. I just rolled my eyes.

"I secretly getting blown in here…but I probably shouldn't have told you that."

"Well, I suppose everyone needs to get their kinks taken care of."

That…was not the reaction I expected. Sis just snorted.

"Nice try, dumbass. Kasumi might be one of the most unflappable people on the ship." She turned towards the doctors. "How's it coming along?"

"Almost complete. Simply must realign stitches and…complete!" Mordin looked up and smiled. "A total reconstruction of joint and surrounding tendons."

"Then get me out of here. Pretty please and with sugar and a cherry on top."

"Mmm, that sounds delicious." Kasumi said. "I think I might have some alcohol with that exact flavoring. Shepard, want a nip later?"

"Kasumi, you can't just run through Cerberus' stockpile of wine on the ship and expect me to pay for i-" She had a look like she'd just had an epiphany. "Never mind, I don't pay for it. Knock yourself out. And save some for me."

"Yay!" Kasumi looked down and me and winked. "Have fun with the bionic knee, Doc." Just like that, she disappeared.

Dr. Chakwas pressed a button, and I was slid out of the machine so that my entire body was out of that damned tube. I was wearing shorts at least, so I wasn't exposing myself to my sister. She looked at the knee, and nodded.

"I'm no doctor, but even I can tell that that's an improvement from what it looked like from before. Not nearly as swollen and red."

I looked down, and then swung my legs over the side of the bed.

"Careful, John. Your knee will be ginger for a few hours, but you should be ready to go soon after that. I'm going to prescribe some light pain medication in case you feel any flare-ups…but other than that…you have a new knee."

"Won't even set off metal detector. Added bonus, in personal opinion."

I hesitantly put my right leg on the floor of the med-bay, expecting to feel a twinge like before. Nothing. My heart racing, I put down my un-damaged leg. And then I stood up. And then I bent down into a squat, just to test.

Nothing.

They really did it.

"Good to see." Sis said, smiling slightly. "I bet you feel like a new man, don't you Bro? A new knee, got your system detoxed…it's like before we even entered the Alliance."

I just looked at her. Her smile faded.

"Oh, lighten up. We're not _actually_ in the Alliance. Now, give it some time and when you're ready make your way down to the shuttle deck."

"Commander, I'd recommend waiting at least a day before he does hard physical training." Dr. Chakwas said.

"I just want to see how his aim's degraded." Sis said. She looked at me and…was that smugness I saw in her eyes? "I can't imagine that he's managed to keep his skill over the past seven years."

Okay. She can mock my knee. She can punch me in the face really hard. She can call me every name in the book for being a deadbeat and for abandoning her.

But if she thinks I'll let that slide…

"You've got another thing coming, Sis." I growl. And with that I stomp off to get a gun.

…

EDI, that blasted AI, directed me to the elevator and then to the armory. There, I saw a young man about a few years younger than me cleaning and inspecting a giant table's worth of guns. He looked up.

"You must be John Shepard." He extended a hand. "I'm Jacob Taylor. Weapons specialist for the Normandy."

I take it, but only because if I don't I'm sure that EDI will record it and then Sis will kick my ass. I'm not a fan of fraternizing with Cerberus officials.

Clearly, he notices my disdain.

"Look, I know what you're thinking. Cerberus has a rather…checkered history." He began. I decide to humor him, and let him speak. "But at the end of the day, I'm about putting away the bad guys. And if Cerberus is on that side of the line, then I'm on their side."

"Awfully direct about our opinions, aren't we Mr. Taylor?" I ask. He shrugs.

"I'm a relatively straightforward guy. What you see is what you get."

I like someone with minimal bullshit. I tell him that.

"Good to know that we can at least maintain professionalism, if nothing else." He said. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"I need to see your collection of hand guns." I said. "I'm thinking of switching out."

"You've come to the right place." Jacob said, gesturing to the side of the table where the guns were much smaller than the rest. "I'm more of a shotgun guy myself, but it's always good to carry a strong sidearm-"

"I don't use them for sidearms." I say. He pauses and looks up at me.

"You a biotic?"

I shake my head. He frowns.

"Uh…then maybe you'd like a bit of a stronger weapon than just a pistol?"

"You were right." I said. "You're _clearly_ more of a shotgun guy than a handgun guy. Just show me the choices."

"We're a little slim at the moment, due to the fact that we've only just started our mission with the Commander. But right now we have…" He gestured over a couple types of handguns. "See anything you like?"

I do.

"Gimme two of those." I point. He nods, and a small smile forms on his face.

"Even I can tell that you'll enjoy these ones."

…

I step through the elevator door to the shuttle bay, and take in the view of my surroundings. There's a lot of crates down here, of materials that will be used to upgrade and keep the Normandy running. There's also a lot of food and other essentials down here too. I see a few ship-to-ground shuttles like the one that picked us up in Omega, but there isn't enough room in here for something bigger like a Mako. I missed those beasts.

I hear the sounds of hand-to-hand combat, and see that there are a few Cerberus staff training in the middle of the ring that has been set up. They're working on basic hand-to-hand wrist locks and reversals, and a few sweeps and takedowns. I see that Sis is supervising them, and Miranda is right beside her. She's got a clipboard in her hand…well, the holo equivalent I suppose. In Omega, our section of the station was so poor that Father Hidalgo literally used paper and an old clipboard to write his sermons. I'm not used to seeing things that are so state-of-the-art.

"Glad you could make it." Sis said, looking away from the sparring group. "How's the leg?"

"Better." I say. "Like magic."

"Well, we did bring Shepard back from the dead." Miranda said. "Putting back together a damaged knee is nothing."

I look at her, and see that that's the best I'm gonna get, compliment-wise.

"Well, I appreciate it all the same." I said. I looked over at Sis. "So, what's the gameplan?"

"Well, I'm sure Doc said that you should wait a little bit before you test out the knee in high-impact stuff but…" She trailed off, and a devilish glint appeared in her eyes. "Let's be real. Has that ever stopped you, Bro?"

"Like hell it has, Janey." I said, smirking right back.

Jesus, it's like I never left. She's too good a person, and she deserves better of a sibling than I. And yet here I am all the same.

"Commander, I can't recommend-"

"Miranda, it's okay. John here was my training partner in hand-to-hand for years. Anything I know, he knows."

"You're as skilled as the Commander in hand-to-hand?" Miranda asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well…maybe not in the same way." I said, scratching the back of my head. "It's been a while since I've practiced Alliance-style hand to hand. I had to change things up a little bit to reduce the pain in my knee. It's…a little more direct now."

"Ooh, you've developed your own style?" Sis asked, a teasing grin on her face. "Got a mystical name for it?"

"Uh…no. I just call it CQC."

"Why not Close Quarters Combat?" Miranda asked, keeping her expression skeptical.

I shrug.

"It's easier to say CQC."

"As you wish." Miranda said, briefly rolling her eyes. I turn to Janey, and gestured towards the far end of the shuttle bay.

"Want to test my accuracy, then?"

"Yeah, let's start there." Sis said. "I want to see how your aim's been. I can't imagine that you've had any legitimate rifle training in the last seven years."

"Don't need it."

"John." She said, her expression getting serious. "You were an Alliance shock trooper. Your rifle was like part of your body."

"I _was_ an Alliance shock trooper, Janey." I said. I open up my duster, revealing the dual holsters on my hips. "Things changed."

…

"Did you…get those from the armory?" Miranda asked, staring at my dual Carnifex hand cannons. "I don't recall Jacob sending me anything regarding you receiving proper clearance…"

"Miranda." Sis said. "It's okay." Then she turned to me. "Really? Dual pistols? What, are you saying you're some kind of cowboy now?"

"Sis…it's like I told you on Omega. I'm the best damn pistolier you've ever met."

She folds her arms across her chest, and the look on her face is somewhere between skepticism and annoyance.

"That was _also_ when I thought you were 'Doc Halladay,' mysterious individual from Omega that had a connection to Archangel. How do I know you aren't just saying this to keep up another ruse?"

"Then let me show you, Sis."

…

I draw both guns at the same time, holding them upwards like I'm ready to draw on my opponent in a duel. I make a point to eject the heat sinks, letting everyone and their brother know that these guns are unloaded now. I was never that careful during my years in exile, but I don't want Janey yelling at me. So sacrifices have to be made.

I twirl them both at the same time, spinning them forwards on my fingers. Then I reverse directions. Then one forward and one in reverse. I toss one up in the air while still spinning the other one, and then catch it and keep spinning without missing a beat. I tweak my elbows and start moving the guns around in front of me, never once bothering to break eye contact with Sis. This is a game, no different than any other time we tried to one-up one another. If I blink or break eye contact, then I lose. And I'm not losing.

I toss one underneath and over my arm. And then one behind my back. I'm doing every stupid trick I can think of, and some that I came up with while I was coming down from another bender of alcohol and whatever else I'd gotten in my system. Then I toss them both up and catch them on opposite hands. I do this, and finish by pointing them both at my sister's face.

I hear a smattering of awed applause in the background, as I become aware of the fact that the other Cerberus operatives were watching me. Even Miranda looks…well, I guess impressed is the best word to describe it. Sis just shakes her head.

"Cute tricks, Bro. But unless you're planning to dazzle your enemies while I shoot them, then that's all they are. Cute. And tricks."

The consummate soldier, through and through. She points downrange towards a few tomato cans.

"Hit those targets with one shot each, or you give up the whirly-birding and I make you relearn how to shoot a rifle."

I stare at her. Doesn't she trust me? Clearly not. Either that, or she's testing me to see if it's all smoke and mirrors. If this is all a trick, and I'm about to leave for the next station we stop at and disappear for the rest of her life. And if I don't hit these shots, then maybe whatever hope she had for me disappears. After all, I was always the better shot in the family. I guess these are the most important shots I'll ever take in my life.

I put a bullet right through the center of each of the cans, one right after the other.

More clapping. Now Sis' expression has softened. Still not smiling, though.

"Alright…I guess you can keep the Carnifex pair…for now." She gestured to the ring. "Now, wanna show me your 'CQC?'"

…

I step in the middle of the mats, and take off my duster. After all, I don't plan to get into many fights with that thing on that require me punching multiple people in the face. Also, I'm gonna have to hold back. Judging by the looks of these guys that they're sending in here, they must think I'm an amateur. This could be ugly.

For them.

"Alright, bro. Just one-on-one right now. Show specialist Leeroy here what you're made of!" Sis said, a small smirk on her face.

I look at this Leeroy kid. Baby-faced, and blue eyes. Looks like he stepped off the pages of an old _Life_ Magazine. He's got his hands up like a hesitant boxer. I'll let him throw the first shot.

He needs the handicap, after all.

He throws the punch, or at least tries to. I swing my forearm and catch him on the inside of the striking arm, and as soon as I see him wincing in pain I hook my heel behind his and swing my leg towards me, using the arm I hadn't used as a blocker to push him backwards at the same time. It's a scissors-motion, and he hits the mat hard. I roll him over onto his back, and yank his arm upwards into an armbar. He howls in pain and taps. I let him go. Sissy. I could've yanked his arm off if I wanted. That was letting him off easy.

The next guy comes in. He's not getting a first strike freebie. I close the gap and then grab him by the scruff of the neck. I turn around on my hip and throw him over my hip and onto the ground. I drop to my knees and place one of them on his throat, and start pressing down until I feel him tap (and gurgle in pain. That's always an added bonus).

The last guy is a big one, and he's clearly pissed at me for hurting his buddies. He charges me with a roar, and I waste no time.

I just side-step his haymaker and knock him out with a forearm shiver.

I make a point to step over his unconscious body as I walk towards Sis. I'm breathing a little bit heavily, but I'm not blown up yet. I look Sis in the eyes, and nod.

"That was…brutal." Miranda finally said. "Rather unnecessary. And grossly dangerous. If specialist Jenkins suffers any head trauma from that-"

"He won't." I said. "Besides, that was a love tap. You gotta hit people even harder than that to make a dent in Omega."

Janey just looks at me, and shakes her head.

"Jesus, John. What were you doing all these years?"

I look her in the eye, and I speak the truest word I can.

"Surviving."

…

A day passed. I got a clean bill of health from the Doctors, and my knee was pretty much completely healed. Yet I hadn't heard from Sis since she dismissed me from that shuttle deck with a brusque "Be more careful of our co-workers." That was about as good as I was gonna get. So I spent my time in the room with Zaeed, with a holopad with the galaxy's news on my lap and my iDroid jacked into a pair of headphones.

Zaeed was reading something. I glanced over. He'd finished that Lee Child book and was on to something else. _Rum Punch_ in big blocky letters on the title. He's chuckling every now and then. Must be a funny book. But considering Zaeed's sense of humor, perhaps "twisted" is the beter word.

Finally, my curiosity kicks in.

"Good book?"

"Oh, it's bloody brilliant!" Zaeed said with a chuckle. He adjusts his reading glasses and looks at me. "Elmore Leonard was a goddamn genius, and the fact that he ain't in the galactic canon of human writers is a fucking disgrace. Seriously, you're tellin' me that of all the authors that we submitted in our intial 'grand presentation of culture' to other races, the Dickens of Detroit wasn't front and fucking center? Disgrace." He grumbled as he turned another page. "I bet it was 'cuz of those prissy Asari: they like their literature to be _artsy_ , and not full of blood and guns and overall shitty people. Which is much closer to real life than _anything_ those ladies of Thessia have pumped out."

I'm afraid to tell Zaeed that I don't know who this Elmore Leonard is. He's also in mid-rant. Never wise to stop him.

"Got a favorite character?" I ask hesitantly.

"Big fan of this Ordell Robbie fella." Zaeed said. "Gun-runner. Kinda reminds me of a few people I've worked with. Of course, if that's any indication, he'll end up dead by the end of the book." He leered at me. "So if you tell me any spoilers, I'll fucking gut you, Doc."

I nod.

"Not a word." I promise.

At that moment, EDI's avatar lit up in the room.

" _Specialist Massani, your presence is requested in the briefing room._ " There was a pause. " _John Shepard, you are requested as well._ "

"Well, that's our cue!" Zaeed said, setting down his book. "I better not fucking die; I'm at a helluva cliffhanger." He's halfway out the door when he turns around. "Oy! You coming or not, Doc?"

It's then that I realize that I hadn't moved. Called to the briefing room? That means that there's a mission being planned. And that means…that means that Sis might have use for me after all.

I look up at him.

"Yeah. I'm coming."

Here goes nothing.

A/N: Do yourself a favor and look up the infamous Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater scene where Revolver Ocelot shows off his dexterity with a pair of pistols. That's what John just did in the shuttle deck.


	9. Purgatory

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

The elevator door opened with a slight hiss, and with a winking sort of noise EDI's avatar disappeared into the bowels of the ship. Or somewhere wherever her mainframe was. I wasn't an expert and still am not an expert on the physiology of AI systems. Either way, I was thankful that she managed to jack the elevator and move it a little bit quicker than normal. She hadn't been kidding before: the thing really _was_ slow.

Zaeed had clearly been out in the field with Sis before, and was walking with a purpose. I noticed, for the first time, some of the crewmen and women that must have staffed the Normandy. They all seemed to scuttle away from us like bugs held under a flashlight. I guess I didn't blame them: Zaeed was scary enough, but with me next to him? We must have looked positively frightening.

I'd taken the liberty of tying up my long hair into a ponytail, having decided that the mangy mullet I'd developed over the past couple of years wasn't doing it for me anymore. Even though I wasn't Alliance, I knew that Sis was gonna make fun of it if I'd kept it. If I could hide it better, then maybe I could stave off the inevitable lecturing over proper hygiene. I never was one for the Alliance regs, after all. The beard I'd grown could attest to that.

The door opened, and we stepped into the same armory room that I had met Jacob Taylor in. He was there, with the table full of weapons laid out in front of us. But he wasn't alone. Sis was there, along with Miranda and Garrus. Sis looked up at us and nodded.

"Glad to see you two made it."

"Always fun to get picked, Commander." Zaeed said. "If I don't, I start to wonder if I'm only gettin' paid to read goddamn books. Not that I mind, consid'ring how good my latest is."

"Mr. Massani, your contract explicitly requires you to contribute on missions or in other fashions, not lounge around in the lower decks." Miranda said, selecting for herself a Predator and clipping it to a hip holster. Zaeed snorted.

"Yeah, yeah. Wield that over my head like a bloody cudgel, why don't ya."

"Play nice, you two." Garrus said. He'd picked up a positively beautiful-looking Viper sniper rifle, and was in the process of clipping on the scope, and effortlessly ejected the used heat sink from the chamber before replacing it with a live one. I'd never seen someone reload a sniper rifle that quickly. I guess he hadn't been kidding about his skills. Sis turned to me.

"Sure you don't want anything more than those two Carnifex?" She asked. I shook my head. "Well, then at least put on some armor under that duster of yours. I don't want my brother going into battle in a tee shirt and jeans and no shielding."

I grabbed a set of light leather armor that was hanging on a hook (clearly Sis had picked it out), and stepped off into the other room to change. When I was done, and I'd made sure that my iDroid was properly synched to an adequate shielding program, I stepped back into the briefing room. The others were locked and loaded, ready to go. Sis pressed a button, and a holographic image of…what looked like a satellite with way too many arms visualized in the center of the table.

"That's the Purgatory." Miranda said. Clearly she was assigned the debriefing role. "Home to the most vulgar, the most violent, and the most depraved criminals in the galaxy."

"And we're going there…why?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Because one of our prospective recruits for this mission is stationed there, and Cerberus has negotiated for her release into the Commander's captivity." Miranda cleared her throat. "Her name is 'Jack,' real name unknown. I'd go into her rap sheet but…" She trailed off.

"I took a look." Sis interjected. "The thing could give _War and Peace_ a run for its money in the length department."

"Hope it ain't as boring as that tripe was." Zaeed grumbled. Miranda just shot him a look.

"Anyway." Miranda said. "The warden of the Purgatory has agreed to personally deliver Jack to us, and we're there to facilitate the deal. The Commander has to be there, obviously, because this is her operation and the warden insisted on her being present. I will be there because I am the one that's been in negotiation with the Purgatory. I want this sale to go off without a hitch."

"Then what the bloody hell are we here for?" Zaeed asked.

"Back-up." Sis said.

Judging by the tone of her voice, she was thinking the same as me.

This all seemed too simple.

…

The Normandy docked at one of the many port stations of the Purgatory, and after we got in the decontamination chamber in between the Normandy and the entrance, I heard EDI's voice on the intercom.

" _Logged. The Commander and XO Lawson are ashore._ _Flight Lieutenant Moreau has the deck._ "

Flight Lieutenant Moreau, huh? I'd probably better go meet him at some point. Doesn't hurt to know who your pilot is, after all.

We exited the ship to see the mother of all checkpoints in front of us. A trio of guards standing out in front to meet us. There was a balcony overlook above us, and a pair of armed guards were walking back and forth across it…with their sight trained on us.

"An awful lot for a prisoner exchange…" Garrus muttered, voicing my own opinion.

"Welcome to the Purgatory, Commander Shepard." The main guard in the center said. He was a Turian with a helmet and heavy armor. "Your package is being prepped, and will be delivered to you shortly."

He looked us over.

"As this is a high-security vessel, you'll need to relinquish your weapons before we proceed."

Hell no.

I drew one of my Carnifex pistols, and the others drew their guns on reflex. It was an improvised Mexican standoff. I looked the Turian right in his glowing visor.

"I'll relinquish one bullet." I said. "Where do you want it?"

" _John!_ " I heard Sis hiss.

Silence across the board.

"I'm waiting." I said. "Kneecap or foot? I mean, I don't wanna _kill_ you but…"

"Everyone stand down!"

Another Turian, this one in rather ceremonial and blue armor, walked up behind the guards. He looked at Sis, and bowed somewhat graciously.

"Commander, I'm Warden Kuril, and this is my ship." He looked at Sis, and he had the gall to look diplomatic. "Your weapons will be returned on the way out. You must realize that this is a standard procedure."

"I understand your standard procedure, but as my cohort here so _eagerly demonstrated_ , it's _my_ standard procedure to keep my gun."

That was a lot more political than I expected from Sis concerning my actions. Warden Kuril stared at her, and she stared back. It was a game of chicken, and everyone knew it.

In the end, the warden tapped out.

"Let them proceed." Warden Kuril said. "Our facility is more than secure enough to handle five armed guests." He cleared his throat. "We're bringing Jack out of cryo. Once the funds have cleared you can be on your way." He gestured behind him. "If you'll follow me to the processing chamber for pickup, Commander?"

The others started to follow him along with the guards. I was about to step when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Remember who's in command." Sis hissed in my ear. "You do _not_ defy my authority like that."

"Head on a swivel, Sis." I grunted back. "This place is bad and you know it."

"That's not the point." She stage whispered back. "The fact of the matter is that you listen to _my_ orders, and not the other way-"

"Is everything alright?"

We looked over to see Warden Kuril looking at us. He had the closest a Turian can get to a smugly amused look on his face. Sis cleared her throat and tried to save face.

"Yes, of course. Simply educating my cohort here on proper procedure when being a guest in a prison."

Kuril nodded, and turned around and continued to lead the crew. Sis and I followed the rest…but not before she punched me in the arm.

It hurt.

…

Warden Kuril led us through a large and enclosed catwalk, revealing the mother of all cell blocks around and below us. I didn't want to think about how many people were in those little hexagonal pods lining the walls and floors like a beehive from hell.

"Cell Block Two." Warden Kuril said, gesturing as he walked. "As you can see, we keep a tight control over the population." As he spoke, giant mechanical arms moved and rotated pods around the room. "Each prisoner's cell is a self-contained modular unit. I've blown a few out the airlocks as an example. The ship is made up of thirty cell blocks like this one. Identical, in fact. We house thousands of criminals." He folded his arms behind his back, puffing his chest out like this was supposed to be something that impressed us. "We can put the whole place in lockdown on a moment's notice…Nothing goes wrong here."

Sis was silently listening to everything that the Warden said, while Miranda was fiddling with her datapad. Most likely clearing the funds. Zaeed was walking right behind them, and from his sauntering step I could tell he was bored with it all. I almost didn't notice Garrus lightly bumping me on the shoulder, and barely noticed him whisper something in my ear.

"What?" I asked quietly, as the warden was inundating my sister with minutiae of the prison.

"I _said_ he's a bareface." Garrus said. He noticed my confused expression. "Turian thing. Someone without clan markings on their face like mine?" He quickly gestured to his. "It means they're not to be trusted."

"Is that really such a big deal?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Saren was a bare-face." Garrus said.

That shut me up. My flash-browsing of current events over the last two years led me to learn a thing or two about this Saren Arterius. From the sounds of it, Sis was too nice in her dealings with him.

"Can you tell me about Jack?"

She was soliciting the warden now. I'd better pay attention.

"Cerberus hasn't told you?" The warden asked with a hint of surprise. "Jack is the meanest handful of violence and hate I've ever encountered. Dangerous, crazy, and very powerful. You'll find out soon enough."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say I heard a trace of fear in his voice.

"How'd you end up running this ship?"

Classic Sis, through and through. Nosy as all get-out and yet able to charm a snake with her casual innocence. I'm usually a bit more direct in my dealings.

"I was in law enforcement on Palaven, and got sick of seeing criminals escape out into the galaxy to carry out their crimes. Bounty hunters aren't dependable."

"Bah. You aren't hiring the right ones." Zaeed snorted.

"With all due respect, Mr. Massani, not everyone is willing to pay your rather exorbitant 'bring them in alive' rates." Warden Kuril said. "While I respect your abilities as a cut above everyone else in your…field, you must understand that you are an exception to the rule. And I'm running a business. I can't be wasteful with my money."

"Eventually I came upon an idea. Keep the criminals in space and watch as the galaxy is safe."

"You do this because you think it's necessary?" Sis asked.

"Every day I see the worst sapient life has to offer." Warden Kuril said with a heavy tone of annoyance.

"Drop by Omega. You'll be in for a treat." I said.

"Sh!" Miranda said.

"Governments are soft, unwilling to make the hard choices." Kuril said, acting as though I hadn't said anything. "Someone had to stand up and make the galaxy safe."

"You mentioned this is a business. And I have to imagine that maintaining a station this size isn't cheap." Sis said.

"We can cut corners that governments can't. And each prisoner brings in a fee from his homeworld. These individuals are violent, and their home planets pay well to keep them here."

Oh, I could see where this was going and I didn't like it.

"What happens if the homeworld doesn't want to pay?" Sis asked, though from her tone I knew that she already knew the answer.

"We explain that we can't maintain the prisoner without their help, so we'll be forced to release him back onto his homeworld." Warden Kuril said, with the gall of trying to sound innocent…At an unspecified place and time."

"Wonderful. I'm doing business with the space mob." Sis snarled. I rolled my eyes. Classic Janey through and through.

"You don't have to agree with my methods, but you cannot question my motives." Kuril said. "These are despicable people, and I am keeping the galaxy safe."

"While I like the principle…the unspecified date and time part is a bit messy." I said.

"If we didn't do that, governments might not take us seriously." Kuril said. "It's like playing poker: you don't want to deal with getting your bluff called."

"Just keep us moving." Sis said, the disgust growing in her voice.

"Have there been escape attempts?" Garrus asked. Kuril looked rather smug.

"They're in space and they have nowhere to go. And they know it. Still…these are dangerous people, and we take all necessary precautions."

He gestured to the floor below. A pair of prisoners were about to come to blows. One touch of a guard's wrist-mounted omni-tool and a pylon went up and deployed two beams of mass effect energy, separating the prisoners safely and rather disorientingly.

"We have many ways to control the population." Kuril said. A side door opened next to him. "I'm going to confirm that the funds from Cerberus have cleared. Outprocessing is straight down the hallway."

"They should be cleared already." Miranda said. "I just finished converting."

"Your little datapad is one thing. But my computers are a bit…finicky." Warden Kuril said. "If you'll excuse me."

And with that, he was gone.

…

We continued walking down the hall, and eventually heard the sounds of muffled combat. There was a cell room attached to the hallway, and one of the guards was beating the complete shit out of a prisoner who was hand-cuffed. The guard in the hallway was completely indifferent.

Sis sidled up to him.

"Is there something I can do for you?" The guard asked.

"There's no excuse for beating a prisoner who can't fight back." Sis said.

"This is a massage compared to what his victims went through." The guard replied rather curtly.

I could see that the last punch had crumpled the guy's nose. Whatever he'd done, it must have been ugly. And yet I had trouble finding sympathy.

"This degrades you as much as him."

Oh boy, here she goes.

"We…have orders." The guard said.

Yep, she had him.

"You're not important enough to make your own decisions?"

"I admit…I sometimes get tired of this. Does this really get us anything useful?" The guard admitted.

"A workout." I muttered under my breath. Zaeed snickered, but Sis must not have heard me.

"Stop this. For your own sake." Sis said.

"Yeah…you're right." The guard turned on his headset. "Call it off. At least for now."

His partner let up. Though if his body language was any indication, he wasn't pleased. Sis nodded and walked off. I waited for her to leave earshot, and then turned to the guard.

"What'd he do?"

"Multiple counts of rape and murder. Blew up a school bus too. Pretty thick rapsheet." The guard admitted. I looked at the prisoner, who was getting up to his feet like a punch-drunk boxer. I turned to the guard, and lowered my voice.

"Next time, don't start with the head. You'll concuss him out of the gate and he won't remember or feel the next shots."

I walk away before the guard says anything.

…

I blew off the pleas of a prisoner who was in a similar holding unit as to the man who was getting beaten up, because I knew that no matter how sympathetic his sob story was, it couldn't hold a candle to the stories of the families of those he'd harmed or killed. I followed Sis and the rest of the group into a room with a few desks, and a doorway at the end of the hall. There was a technician working at a terminal at the side of the room. He glanced over at Shepard, and then immediately started typing something furiously into his terminal.

"Outprocessing is through the doorway at the far side of the room." He said. Sis nodded, and the others followed her towards the door.

Except me.

Maybe it was because I was paranoid. Maybe it was because I'm naturally untrustworthy. Or maybe it was because I know a liar when I see one. So I walked up to the guy and draped my arm over his shoulder. He stiffened, but cleared his throat.

"Um, can I help you?" He asked. I looked at him and gave him a sweet little smile.

"Yeah, you can. Yes, you can, buddy. Just answer me a question."

By now I knew that the others were stopped and staring at me.

"W-what question?" He asked. He was sweating now. Too much. Good.

"Why did you lie to my sister?" I asked. "Huh?"

"…What?" He asked. I clapped him on the back, hard enough that he smacked facefirst into the terminal. He bonked his nose, and then covered it with his hands, grunting in pain.

" _John!_ " I heard Sis shout, but before she could move I'd pulled out a Carnifex and was aiming it at the sap's knee.

"I'm just wondering because, you know maybe I'm a little confused, but I figured that outprocessing is something that's on the _outer_ edge of a prison. And yet that doorway there _clearly_ looks like it goes deeper into the bowels of this place. Can you help me out? Why'd you lie to my sister?"

He stammered a bit.

"Maybe this'll jog your memory?"

I pulled the trigger.

He crumpled to the floor, howling as he clutched his ruined kneecap. I drew my other pistol.

"Take quicker and you might save the other one."

"Jesus _Christ_ , John give me the fuckin-"

" _It's a trap!_ " The miserable little wretch wailed. "The warden's gonna lock you in there and sell you!"

There was a dead silence. I think I had too much fun enjoying the look of stunned disbelief on my sister's face.

"…Can you repeat that?" I asked, a smug little tone in my voice. "I don't know if Sis here believes you."

"Warden Kuril said you'd be too valuable as a prisoner and he could retire on the money and oh god please don't shoot me again!" He was crying like a baby now. Miserable.

Slowly, Sis stood upright. She looked up towards the ceiling.

"Warden, is this true?" She asked the intercom.

" _My apologies, Shepard. You're more valuable as a prisoner than as a customer."_ His voice was almost apologetic. " _Drop your weapons and step into this open cell, and you will not be harmed._ "

"You talked a good game about your morals." Sis said. "But I guess you're another criminal, just like everyone on this ship."

I saw the techie reaching for something in his coat pocket. It looked like a stun baton. I wasn't gonna give him the chance.

A single shot right between the eyes, and he went limp.

" _Activate systems!_ " Warden Kuril shouted over the intercom.

Almost immediately we dove behind the desks in the room, overturning one of them to provide better cover. I was crouched next to Sis, who was hastily drawing her Vindicator assault rifle.

"You shot an unarmed man!" She snarled, popping out of cover to shoot at the first wave of Blue Suns mercs that came through the doorway.

"A man who had no qualms about tricking you into a cell, Sis!" I barked back. I leaned around the cover and placed a slug in the groin of a charging Sun. He doubled over, and then a burst from Miranda's pistol put him down for good. "You're lucky I didn't shoot him in the fucking throat!"

" _Spare_ me the moral relativism!" Sis shouted back, ejecting a heat sink and reloading the next. "That was wrong and you know it!"

"I'd rather be wrong and alive rather than dead on principle!" I snarled back.

"For _FUCK'S_ sake, would you two just bloody shut up and shoot?" Zaeed roared from somewhere behind us.

"Mr. Massani is right!" Miranda shouted as she threw a biotic blast into a pair of charging FENRIS mechs. "We need to find Jack and get her out of cryo. This is no time for sibling spats!"

…

" _Reinforce Outprocessing! Shepard is loose!_ " Warden Kuril shouted over the system as we made our way down the hall. I ran up ahead of the group and pinned myself as close as I could to the wall, hiding behind one of the studs holding up the glass. As soon as a Turian guard ran past me, I drew and put a bullet through his back. By the time his buddies turned around to get me, they were cut up by the others in the group. I was thankful for the fact that I had a healed knee; otherwise I probably would have been shot.

"Shepard is on the loose! I repeat Shepard is on th-" The techie at the terminal didn't get to finish his sentence before a hail of gunfire cut him down. We all ran up to the command console he'd been vainly trying to guard, and looked down below. It was one of the cell blocks, and there was a submerged pod that was clearly in cryo in the center of the room. Also, there were three deactive YMIR mechs surrounding it.

"That's gotta be Jack." I said.

"Shepard, if you hack that terminal, every prisoner in the cell block will be loosed." Miranda said.

"If it's the only way to get Jack out, then what bloody choice do we have?" Zaeed asked.

"I'm doing it." Sis said, her fingers flying over the terminal. "Be ready."

No sooner had she said that did the locks to the pod disengage. It was a big long tube, cylindrical in shape, and with the destabilized security the walls of the thing fell off to reveal the prize.

"…That's Jack?" Garrus said.

…

She was pretty, in a rather terrifying sort of way. Covered in tattoos, a strap-like upper garment that only barely granted her modesty, and head shaved completely bald. She seemed to be moving slowly, as if the ice was coming off of her. The three YMIRs started to move into position, as if they knew that something terribly wrong was about to happen.

Her eyes opened.

She gave a howl of rage as she ripped the handcuffs and neck collar that held her in place, and was surrounded by a blue aura of pure biotics as she charged the three YMIR mechs. I wish I could put it into words, but the best I could describe what I saw was: dirty fireworks.

"We have to get down there!" Garrus said. There seemed to be a sense of glee in his voice, like a kid watching explosions for the first time.

"Why? She seems to be doing well enough." Zaeed said.

An explosion rocked the entire ship.

"We're under attack!" Miranda said.

"No…" I said. "That was Jack. She's gonna rip this entire place apart!"

"Then we have to make it back to the Normandy." Sis said. "Because if she beats us there then she'll take over the entire thing…and leave us with the bag."

"Uh…I don't see any bag, Shepard…" Garrus said.

"It's a goddamn metaphor, you bloody Turian now let's _move!_ " Zaeed barked, kicking in a nearby door. We made our way through the sector, as the emergency red lights flooded the entire place. Explosions in the distance. Screams. More explosions. The Warden yelling over the intercom, increasingly unhinged. The on-station computer remarking that Sector Seven had lost life support. Sector Eight. Sector Eleven. Sector Nine…

"We're running out of sectors!" Garrus shouted. He pressed a button, and his helmet folded up and over his head. "I'm keeping my own life support ready."

"Affirmative. Everyone else, mask up!" Sis said. While the others had masks built into their hardsuits, I had to press a button on my iDroid and wait for the repaired mask program I had to load up. As soon as it was set and I felt myself breathing the staleness of recycled air, Sis looked at me. "If we survive, you have _got_ to get a better system."

…

We ran into one of the larger rooms where prisoner pods were in the process of opening. However, most of them were getting cut down by the remaining security on the ship. One of them, a massive YMIR mech, turned its guns towards us.

"Get down!" Sis shouted. Zaeed and Garrus rolled out of the way of the bullets and into cover, while I slid behind a fallen prisoner pod next to Sis. She barked orders into the team com for Garrus and Zaeed to draw its fire, while she started priming her grenade launcher.

"Can that thing bring down a YMIR?" I asked over the din.

"If I get the right shot, then yes!" She replied. She popped out of cover and fired. The explosive arched through the air and struck the YMIR right in the center of its "eyes." It started beeping worryingly, and we barely had time to get back into cover before an explosion ripped it apart and some of the surrounding support structures.

"YMIR down!" Miranda shouted. "Good work, Shepar-"

As she was speaking I saw that there was a group of Blue Suns mercs making their way towards her. I was the closest person to her, and even I wasn't sure that the others could get the right shot off. Oh man, this wasn't gonna be fun.

She didn't get to finish her sentence as I taclked her to the ground. I kept her pinned underneath me, and raised my gun and fired at the advancing trio of soldiers. One bullet cut one down, and the rest of them ducked for cover…cover that left them exposed to the flanking Zaeed and Garrus. They were dead in moments.

" _Excuse me._ "

I looked down to see that, well, I was still lying on top of Miranda. To say that she had an annoyed look on her face was an understatement. There wasn't really anything that I could say to make it better, so I just rolled with it.

"You're welcome."

I rolled off of her, and then popped back up to my feet and rejoined the rest of the group.

…

As we made our way through the prison, we saw a group of prisoners trying to run through the mess. One by one, they were picked off by a marksman's rifle ahead of us…one that belonged to one rather smug (and currently armored to the gills) Turian warden.

"You're valuable, Shepard!" Kuril shouted, firing blindly at us as we scurried for cover like rats. "I could have sold you and lived like a _king!_ " He sighed. "But you're too much trouble!...at least I can capture Jack."

"Good luck, asshole!" I barked. He growled in rage, and started firing on my position. Me and my big mouth.

"There has to be a way to lower his shields…" Sis said, looking around. "Those pylons! If we take them out, his shields will drop. Garrus, can you be ready with a shot?"

The Turian wordlessly loaded his rifle.

"There's three pylons. A good explosive should do it." Zaeed said. "I'm carrying good C-4. Take one, each of ya." He tossed a block of the stuff to Sis and Miranda. "We should hit the pylons all at the same time. Otherwise he'll know something is up!"

"But how can we all get to those pylons without being noticed?" Miranda asked. "He's a dead-eye with that rifle. We'll get hit!"

"Not if we have a distraction…" Sis said, looking over…at me.

"Aw shit."

…

I waited for the next gun shot, before I cupped my hands to my mouth and yelled.

"Hey, metal-head! I think you missed a spot, you goddamn peacock!"

I heard him growl with rage. Another shot, this one nearly parting my hairline.

"Oh, good stuff, boss!" I crowed. "Maybe next time you'll gimme a haircut, you barefaced motherfucker!"

A howl of rage.

"I will _mount your head like a trophy,_ human!" Kuril roared. "I've hunted _Vorcha_ with better skills than you!"

I popped out of cover and fired a round that glanced off his armor. His shot glanced my shoulder. Not nearly as ineffective. Sucking through my teeth to ignore the pain, I called out again.

"Working as a prison warden, huh?" I asked. "What, did you get dishonorably discharged? I thought Turians got an honorable discharge for their fifth birthday; where the fuck were you? Screwing a Hanar?"

A scream of frothing rage, and a peltering of my cover with bullets. Something was gonna give. What was taking Sis and the others so long?

"You look like a goddamn lobster and your eyes are beadier than a jewelry store!" I felt that familiar rush filling my bones again. "I laugh in your face, I spit on your feet! You're inbred, you squid-faced jackass!"

"Will you _shut up!_ " Kuril howled. " _NONE OF THOSE SENTENCES MAKE ANY SENSE TO ME!"_

At that moment, there was a series of explosions. The three pylons went up in smoke, and I saw the Warden's shields flicker and go out. I rolled out of cover, and fired a shot past his nose. I pulled the trigger again.

Empty.

"Was that for _me,_ human?" Kuril asked, gazing down the barrel of his rifle right towards me. I shrugged.

"No. But _that_ is."

A resounding crack. Kuril's head exploded, and he slumped to the ground. I looked over at the Turian at the other end of the room who gave me a thumbs up. I flipped him off.

"Took you long enough, asshole!"

"Warden down." Sis said casually over the team com. "Let's go pick up Jack."

…

We saw her in the hallway right outside the Normandy, currently in the middle of some sort of emotional rage. She'd snapped two guards in half, and yet something was driving her up the wall. She was too busy raging to notice the guard sneaking up behind her. I pulled out my pistol and with a single shot took him down.

She whirled around towards us, her biotics flaring up.

"What the hell do you want?" She hissed.

"I just saved your ass." I said. Damn, she had a pretty attractive voice. Fitting offset to the tattoos and the general craziness. She looked at me, and rolled her eyes.

"He was already dead, cowboy. He just didn't know it." She looked at me and stared. "Are you in charge? What the hell do you want?"

"You're in a bad situation and I'm gonna get you out of here." Sis said. Jack snorted.

"Shit, you sound like a pussy." She said in an incredibly condescending voice.

"You're one too." I said. Zaeed and Garrus struggled not to laugh. Jack nearly smirked, but then her eyes narrowed.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. You're _Cerberus._ "

Sis was still stinging about that "pussy" comment, because the next words out of her mouth were pretty cold.

"I'm offering to be your friend." She said. "You don't want to be my enemy."

"They have a way of dying." Garrus commented snidely.

"You show up in a Cerberus frigate to take me away somewhere? You think I'm stupid?" Jack asked.

"This ship is going down in flames. I'm the only ride out of here, and I'm offering to take you with me. And _you're arguing._ " Sis could be steely when she needed to.

"We could just knock her out and take her?" Miranda offered.

"We're _not_ attacking her." Sis said.

I felt like I was in the middle of a demented comedy, what with the exploding ship as a background.

"Good move." Jack said. She stepped forward. "Look, you want me to come with you? Make it worth my while."

"Join my team and I'll do whatever I can to help you." Sis said. Jack's eyes narrowed.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"She doesn't." I said, which drew a look from the others, even Janey.

"I bet your ship has a lot of Cerberus databases. I want to look at those files, and see what Cerberus has got on me." She put a hand on her hip. "You want me on your team? Give me those databases."

"Done." Sis said.

"Shepard!" Miranda said, somewhat aghast. "You're not authorized to do that."

"Aww…it upsets the cheerleader." Jack said. " _Even better._ " She jerked a thumb towards the ship. "So what are we standing around for? Let's go. I don't wanna die in a big bang."

For once, the psychotic biotic was the one making the most sense. Truly it was a mad galaxy we lived in.

…

Jack, Miranda, and Sis disappeared after we entered the ship. I guess they were gonna iron out the whole "give the crazy convict sensitive data about a morally ambiguous N.G.O." deal. Garrus figured that there might be a scrap. Zaeed wondered if he might need to separate them. These are the sorts of scuttlebutt that one takes part in when taking off your armor and replacing weapons back in their storage lockers. And I made a beeline for the elevator.

Only to see EDI's avatar pop up next to it.

" _John Shepard, XO Lawson and Yeoman Chambers would like to speak with you in the XO's office._ "

I just sighed. No rest for the weary.

The door hissed open as I stepped into Miranda's office. A bit spacey, with a couple of comfortable-looking chairs facing out into the vast expanse of space and the galaxy. It was rather impressive a view, I'll give it that. Miranda was sitting at her desk, typing furiously at her terminal. She briefly looked up, but then looked back down to whatever it was she was doing. Yeoman Chambers looked at me, and gave a perky little smile and a wave.

"Hi John! Just have a seat here." She gestured to one of the chairs next to her and in front of Miranda's desk. They looked considerably less comfortable than the chairs by the window. I lounged in one of them, and then leaned back as far as I could in the chair until it started to creak in protest against the weight.

"Don't do that." Miranda said, not even bothering looking up from her computer.

"Don't do what?" I asked. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cigar. I glanced over at Kelly. "You mind?"

"Oh! Um, no I don't."

I nodded, and graciously took care to cut the thing over my lap so as not to spill on the floor. I flicked open my lighter, and just began to puff away.

…Until I was treated to the sensation of my cigar shrinking in my lips. I spit it out in shock and annoyance, and watched as it floated in the air in a small biotic field. It crumpled into a tiny little ball the size of a marble, and then was turned into dust. I made eye contact with Miranda, who was glaring at me.

" _I_ mind. It's _my_ office."

"You owe me a new one." I said, not bothering to hide my annoyance. "That was my last cigar."

"So buy some new ones the next time we're at a civilized stop."

"This is the thanks I get for saving your life?"

"When did you save my life?" Miranda made a face. "I was _perfectly_ capable of myself before you tackled me to the ground like some sort of wild dog."

"Um…Miss Lawson? Mr. Shepard? Is everything okay?"

Oh. I'd forgotten that Yeoman Chambers was in the room. I turned to her, and gave an apologetic shrug.

"Sorry, Yeoman Chambers. Miranda and I are just having a little…lover's spat."

"Oh!" Chambers blushed furiously. "I didn't realize that you-"

"We're _not._ " Miranda said, thoroughly unamused. "Jonathan here is simply being an uncooperative ass. Which is pretty fitting with your initial psych evaluation." She stared at me, as if she expected that line to hurt me. I shrugged.

"I get grumpy when my daily dose of nicotine gets snatched out of my mouth." I narrowed my eyes. "Also, whenever people not named 'Hannah Shepard' call me Jonathan."

"You are referring to your mother, Captain Hannah Shepard of the cruiser _Jamestown?_ " Miranda asked.

"Yes. And if your people make any moves against her you will be _very_ sorry." I growled, not bothering to put on a veneer of kindness. Kelly gave a little "meep!" of fear, and covered up part of her face with her datapad. I turned to Kelly. "Relax. You're good, Yeoman Chambers."

"Funny you should mention 'our' people, because that's the purpose of this little meeting." Miranda said. "We're conducting interviews with the specialists on the Normandy on their opinions of the organization known as Cerberus. You're the first human of the team that we've interviewed."

"You didn't interview Zaeed or Jacob?"

"Jacob is already a member of Cerberus and I know him quite well." Miranda said. "Mr. Massani claimed that as long as we paid him enough, he didn't care about anything. So, yes, you're the first human we have interviewed. We've already interviewed Garrus and Dr. Solus."

"Somehow I doubt that, but okay." I relaxed in the chair, making a point to display the pair of pistols holstered at my hips. "I'm guessing you're just here for oversight, Miranda, so go ahead Kelly."

"Um…ok. What is your prior knowledge of Cerberus?"

"Knew about you from my days in the Alliance." I said. "Nothing good. Only the Terra Firma assholes in Basic had anything nice to say about you people."

"So you have a negative opinion of Terra Firma?" Kelly asked. I snorted.

"No shit." I said. "Humans aren't any more special than the rest of the galaxy. We live and we die all the same."

I noticed Miranda wrinkle her nose, but she held her tongue. Kelly cleared her throat.

"So, Mr. Shepard…"

"John is fine." I said. Kelly wasn't the problem. The last thing I needed was someone like her terrified of me. Especially if Sis was gonna keep having her check up on me. She smiled slightly.

"…Okay. John, how many people do you think you've killed in your life?"

"Don't know. A lot."

"…Not even an estimate?" Miranda asked. I shrugged.

"No. There are plenty of days I don't remember. Probably offed a few people during them too. But don't worry, I'm sure that they were all bad people. I think."

"Have you ever had experience with black ops?"

"Briefly. Unofficially I've done some cleaning and other gardening after I left the Alliance."

Kelly looked over at Miranda in confusion. The brunette waved her concerns off.

"Just mark it down as a 'Yes.'" Miranda said. "He's using slang."

"Okay." Kelly said. "What can you tell me about Torfan?"

Whatever pleasure in me disappeared, replaced by a coldness. I looked her in the eyes, and stared so hard that she seemed to wilt before my eyes. And in that moment, I felt no regret for the fear I caused in her.

" _Nothing._ "

I got up out of my chair, and walked out the door.

I found myself banging on the door to what I assumed was the thief's quarters. Kasumi opened the door.

"…Can I help you, John?"

"Whatever you've got that's strong enough to put an Elcor on its ass."

She didn't quite have that, but the swill I took a swig from as I sat silently in that room was good enough to dull the pain.

For now.

A/N: What did you think? Read and review, if you can.


	10. Raise Your Glass

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

I wake up slowly to the sound of a voice.

"Yo. Shit for brains. Wake the fuck up."

A very, very irritated voice.

I force my eyes open, and my bleary vision can make out the fuzzy edges of a head in front of me. A head with…eyes…and a nose. And hair, wait, no hair.

Then I blink again, I see that I'm looking at Jack.

"Thank fuck, I thought I'd have to drag your corpse up to the Commander and tell Cheerleader that for once I _didn't_ fucking kill someone. Believe it or not." She walks off out of my field of vision, and I hear the sound of bedsprings. I look and see that she's sitting on a little cot, and that everything is very dark.

"Where…where am I?" I ask after a moment of regaining sensitivity in my extremities.

"In the lower decks, boozer." Jack said. She sounds relatively pleased with herself for that one. But then her voice hardens a bit. "Specifically, _my room._ There any reason for that, shitbird?"

"Uh…" I trail off. Then I hear snarky laughter.

"Jesus, this is too good. I'm just fucking with you. You've been passed out there since…well, since last night." She holds up a bottle and dangles it in her fingers. "Don't know where you got this stuff, but the shit's good. Put me out like a light and I only had a sip or two. You drank the whole fucking bottle. What are you, Krogan?"

"Might be." I grumble, shuffling myself upright so that I'm sitting like a regular human and not slouched over. I realize that my back is stiff as hell, and I realize that that is because I'm sitting on the metal steps that lead down into this darkened area of the lower decks. Did I fall asleep on the steps? Did she step over me? Fuck, thinking of all of these questions is just making the headache worse.

She snorts.

"You're certainly bigger than the Commander." She said. Then she frowned. "Look, if you got some sort of problems, don't dump them on me, 'kay? I'm no shrink."

"That's…that's okay." I mumble, blinking once and shaking my head. "I hate shrinks."

She laughes. It's kind of a spiteful sound.

"I like you! If I ever have to kill you, I'll make it painless just for cracks like that." She said. I shrug.

"…Thanks?"

"Don't mention it." Jack said. "Now, I'm done talkin'. I got shit to read." She gestures to the datapad she's cradling on her lap. "You can sit there and work it off, or just leave. I don't care either way." And with that, she disappears into her reading, as if I'm not even there.

I make some sort of noise like an acknowledgement, and I stagger back up the stairs.

…

Thankfully, no one sees me stagger back into the room where Zaeed and I sleep. He's already gone. Must be out doing something with the Commander or with the others. Or maybe he's working out. Either way, I'm glad that he doesn't see me like this. Don't need that one-eyed bastard laughing at me.

I manage to sneak into the showers with some clean clothes, and in a few minutes (okay, closer to twenty) I make my way out of the showers feeling…well, refreshed would be pushing it. But I don't feel like hell anymore. I decided that I could use some coffee.

I find myself wandering into the mess hall. There's a kitchen counter off to the side, and a rather stout looking man in a Cerberus outfit manning the counter. He looks over at me, and he cracks a grin.

"Rough night, kid?"

I grunt in response, not giving him the satisfaction of words. He chuckles to himself.

"Heh. I remember my first time getting gargle-blasted on a ship." He said. "Don't worry. I'll brew you a cup of Joe, blacker than tar and stronger than a Krogan on steroids." He looks at me, and extends his hand. "Name's Rupert Gardner. Mess sergeant and handy-man for the Normandy."

I slowly take the hand and shake it.

"Call me Doc." I said.

"Oh, that's a good one kiddo." He said. "Except you must think I live up my own butt pucker if you think I don't know who you really are. Johnny Shepard."

" _Don't_ call me that."

"Hey…" He says, easing up a bit. "Just makin' friendly conversation."

"Try less friendly. I'm hungover and the last thing I need to think about is my sister."

"Well, you won't see her for a while." Gardner said, handing me a cup of coffee. Just like he said: blacker than tar and strong as a…head hurts too much to finish the thought. Just drink the damn thing. "She's in her office right now with Miss Lawson. They're going over reports and the like. You know: requisitions and stuff." He takes a seat on the other side of the counter, having pulled up a stool and cup of his own.

"She was always a fan of that shit." I said. "I never got it. Though I wasn't a lieutenant and I didn't go to officer school."

"Regular Alliance shock trooper, right?" Gardner asked.

"Yeah…" I said, staring at him suspiciously. If he brings up what I think he's about to bring up I will break this cup over his head and will not shed a tear if Janey spaces me.

"That's a rough life, kiddo." He said. "I worked it for a few years. But the Alliance and the Council ain't doing the right stuff for Humanity _or_ for the galaxy. Cerberus is doing the tough stuff that we need to do to save people."

"You know, I have been on this ship for a few days. And I've even been out on a mission with the Commander. And yet not _once_ have I been told the specifics of this mission."

"You mean you ain't heard?" Gardner asked, his eyes widening. I shook my head.

"I spent the last seven years getting in and out of fights and hangovers in the dredges of the galaxy. Current affairs weren't at the top of my priorities." I said. He looked around from left to right, and then lowered his voice.

"Human colonies on the Terminus are straight up disappearing, kid. And they say that the Collectors are behind it. And that they're working for someone else."

"The who? And the what now?" I ask. I realize that being let in on a great big cover-up while hung over is not the best plan.

"Mr. Gardner, I am afraid that the answers to his questions are _far_ beyond your paygrade."

With that, I see that Miranda has taken a seat next to me. Gardner just stares at her. She frowns.

"Mr. Gardner, what are you doing?"

"Um…thinking, ma'am."

"Well, why don't you think me up a cup of coffee, two creams and two sugars, and a biscotti. While you're thinking?" She manages to put in an utterly ruthless faux-sweet tone to the last sentence, and Gardner swiftly starts firing up another pot. She's still looking forward as she talks. "You need to apologize to Yeoman Chambers."

"For what?" I ask. Now she turns to look at me.

"Christ, must you be so difficult? You've got her all upset that she's doing all the wrong things, or that there's something wrong with her because she can't get through to you. She gets through to _every_ one, and yet not you."

"Not her fault." I said, glancing over at the woman sitting next to me. "I just hate psychiatrists."

"Jonathan Shepard-"

" _Don't call me that."_ I growl. I don't even care that the others in the room have now gone fearfully quiet. "Just. Don't. Doc is fine."

"Alright… _Doc._ " Miranda said, her eyes narrowing. "Regardless of your opinion of psychiatrists, you should make an effort to let Yeoman Chambers know that she isn't an incompetent psychiatrist."

"What do you propose I do?" I asked testily. Her response was sheer exasperation.

"Christ, I don't know Doc. Buy her a drink, for all I care. Just resolve this issue. _Please._ " She said that last word like it caused her extreme pain. It was kind of funny and strangely adorable in a threatening sort of way. I nod.

"Fine. I'll go talk to her. At some point." I get up to leave.

"The sooner the better." Miranda said. It was her best effort to be diplomatic. I guess for that I had to reward her by actually doing this. Maybe when my hangover had disappeared.

…

I made my way up to the top floor of the Normandy, outside of the captain's quarters of course. There was a lot of activity at the many terminals lining the walls of the ship. Everyone was plugging in equations that gave me a headache worse than my hangover if I tried to think about it.

The Galaxy Map, on the other hand, was utterly gorgeous.

I kept walking forward towards the front of the ship. As I did, I started to hear a rather familiar voice as well as another one that I did not recognize.

"Commander, no offense, but was it really the best idea to bring him aboard?"

"This isn't up for discussion, Joker."

"I know it's not, but you always say that and then you let me say things anyway. I mean, you saw that he straight-up kneecapped that dude. Kneecapped! Like he's been watching too many holovids of, god I dunno, those cheesy gangster flicks from the last century?"

The voice belongs to what I assume is Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau. Apparently his nickname is Joker. Not bad, as far as pilots go. He also has no idea that I have entered the cockpit area. Sis flits her eyes over to see me, and then I catch a flash in her eyes. I am usually on the receiving end of that sort of glint, and it never ends well for me. But this is different. This time _I'm_ not the butt of the incoming joke. So I play along.

"I mean, I knew that the Shepard family might be crazy, because you killed a Reaper (with my help of course) and then came back from the dead but I really don't know if it's wise to bring onto the most dysfunctional ship ever the guy who…" He trailed off. "He's right behind me, isn't he?"

" _Greeting, Jonathan Shepard. Flight Lieutenant Moreau was just informing the Commander and myself of his reservations of my in-combat skills as well as your mental facult-"_

"Thaaaaaaaank you, EDI!" Moreau said, spinning his chair around to face the two of us. "I was not saying anything of the _holyshityouaregigantic._ " His eyes bugged out of their head as he looked upon me for the first time. There was a pause, and I wished that I had a camera to capture the look of horror on this little man's face. "…Commander?" He asked hesitantly. "Are you sure this is your brother, and not some Krogan wearing a human meatsuit?"

Janey snorts as she tries not to laugh.

"No…This…this is my brother, Joker." She turns to me. "John? This is Joker. I mean, his name is Jeff Moreau but no one calls him that." I grunt as threateningly as I can, but even I'm having trouble maintaining the charade. I extend my hand.

"The pleasure's mine, _Lieutenant._ "

"Commander, you have to tell him not to use his ankle-breaking voice in the cockpit." Joker said, gingerly taking my hand. His bones feel brittle and weak even from this grasp; I bet he has a condition. "Because I _think_ my pelvis just shattered on account of me shitting myself in fear."

" _I detect no excremental output at this tim-_ "

"THANK YOU, EDI!"

At that, I can't help it. I start snickering, and the look of sheer relief on the face of this little man as he realizes that I'm not about to kill him just makes me chuckle harder. Janey turns to look at me.

"Joker's about to dock us at a weigh station for a day's worth of fueling and shore leave. But then we're right back on schedule." She said. She raised an eyebrow. "If you behave yourself, I'll give you a weekend pass, soldier."

"Bite me."

"Ahaha. Humor! Great, now I don't feel like I'm gonna die." Joker said, his relief a little bit too obvious. "If you two are done, then I'll get back to, um, piloting. Yes. Piloting. Not staring at the scary bear that calls itself a human. No sir. Not me." He frantically swiveled his chair around, and was back to work. Jane gestured for me to follow her out of the cockpit.

…

"So." She said as we walked down the hallway.

"So?" I asked.

"So about the Purgatory."

"Are you gonna yell at me for shooting the guy without a gun?"

"No I'm not gonna _yell_ at you. I just…be careful, okay? You're not going to be right about that every time."

"Uh huh."

"And it's…it's very unprofessional to kneecap someone with a pistol."

"Got it."

"…"

"…"

"But thanks anyway, Bro."

"Always, Sis."

…

The Normandy latched itself to the docking station on a planet whose name I couldn't pronounce and who I would forget about as soon as the night ended. I noticed that a good chunk of the crew was leaving for the night to go out and stretch their legs. I saw that even Zaeed was planning on getting out, though knowing him it was probably to go find some old friends and get slammered on their glory days and alcohol. I had no interest in going out, myself.

But then I got a rather devious idea.

"Yeoman Chambers!" I said, leaning against her desk. "You look nice tonight."

"Oh!" She jolted upright, having been leaning over the computer hard at work and totally unaware of my presence. "I'm sorry, Mr. Doc…er, Mr. Shepard sir. I didn't see you." Her face is about as red as her hair right now.

"It's alright. I have a habit of sneaking up on people…despite my size." I admitted. I then cleared my throat. "Listen, um…I sort of wanted to apologize for the way I've been treating you since I got on this ship. I know I'm a bit of a tangled mess and it can't be easy."

"You aren't the worst I've treated." Chambers said, still not making eye contact. I shook my head.

"Still. I don't want you to go around thinking that I hate you. Cuz I don't. So, I was wondering if I could make it up to you." She turned to look at me. Her blush seemed to have faded a little bit.

"What did you have in mind?"

"How about I buy you a drink?" I offer. "I think it's a requirement that all weigh stations like this have a bar with good alcohol and a few bar brawls."

"I don't want to get in a fight!" Kelly said. But then she smiled somewhat. "Might be funny to watch, though." She tapped her chin in thought. "Ok. Give me a few minutes to get out of my Cerberus gear. That might set off…alarm bells."

…

The spaceport bar had a slightly Hawaiian feel to it, and we were sitting at a corner table away from the fun. If you looked to our right, you saw the ships docked and then the vast expanse of space out in front of you, and a few suns rising and setting in the distance. It was kind of breathtaking.

"You know, I never really got a chance to be on a lot of ships." Kelly said. "The Normandy's only my second assignment. First major one."

"Yeah?" I ask. "Well, I've been on more ships than I can count, and I still get butterflies when I see a view like that." I chuckle. "Not the tiki torch. The space…stuff."

"Did you and your sister travel a lot?" Kelly asked.

"Yeah. All the time." I said, taking a sip of my drink. It was, on a scale of 1-10, a sold 6 in terms of quality. Not bad for a spaceport. "'Course, we split time between Mom and Dad."

"Were they divorced?"

"Only by ship." I said. "They were sickening, and in a way sort of helped morale. I mean, Dad put up with some shit from people now and then but never seriously. In fact, he was so devoted to Mom that it sorta…created this family-like vibe on ships. If someone could be that nice and that devoted to someone, then maybe we try it too. Y'know?" I take a sip.

"Do you miss him?"

I stare at her. This could go one of two ways. I either shut down, and she pushes because that's what she's trained to do and I'll snap and scream at her…or I take another route.

"Yeah. Yeah I do."

Give her an answer, and nothing more.

"I can sympathize." Kelly said. "Losing a parent must be hard. But I bet you're glad to be with the Commander again."

"Janey?" I ask. "Yeah. I am, I guess."

"That's good. And it'll be alright. You know you can talk to me if you need to, John. *Hic*"

I smile, and raise my glass.

"Of course. Here's to a good friendship, hey Doc?"

We clinked glasses.

…

" _Whu-jgb-guh-hrg-YOU SLEPT WITH HER?_ "

"What? NO!" I growl, ducking under the pistol that has been whipped at me at an alarming speed. "I just gave her a kiss goodnight and then escorted her back to her quarters." I narrow my eyes. "And that's _all._ Who the hell told you that I slept with Chambers?"

Sis points to Miranda, who holds up her hands in defense.

"I heard it from Mr. Moreau. I thought I'd better cross-reference with the Commander and then get your side." Miranda said. She was clearly being sincere, but it still pissed me off all the same.

"Janey, there are several things wrong with 'Mr. Moreau's' theory. One, I might be a piece of shit in some regards but I would _never_ take advantage of someone that was as drunk as she got last night. Two, isnt there video recording on every floor of this ship?"

"That would be unethical-"

" _Can it,_ Miranda. EDI!" I shouted up to the ceiling. "Am I telling the truth?"

" _Affirmative. According to video logs, upon escorting Miss Chambers to her quarters, John Shepard returned to his quarters. He came out later to play cards with Zaeed and Garrus in the mess kitchen, but then returned to his quarters for the remainder of the night._ "

"Thank you, EDI." I said testily. I glared at both Shepard and Miranda.

"Look, I dunno what you two think of me. Disagree with my methods? Fine. You knew exactly what you were getting when you didn't kick me off this ship like I told you to. And now I'm stuck, because I know about the Collectors or whatever the shit and I can't leave because I 'know too much' or some crap like that." I said. "But hear this. I would _never_ lay my hands on someone like that. That's…" I sigh. "That's not what I was before, Janey…and that's still not who I am. Even after everything else."

Jane's expression softened.

"You're right. You were like what you say you are back then. And I guess I have no reason to doubt you now. I'm sorry." She said. But then her eyes narrowed. "Who told you about the Collectors?"

"Gardner." I said. "Though Miranda cut him off before he got to whatever the good stuff was. Which, by the way, if I'm down with this mission, I gotta know. What the fuck is going on?"

Sis and Miranda exchanged a look. Miranda reached under the desk, and tossed something to me. It was a lighter and a pack of cigars. I looked at them, and then at the two women in front of me.

"You're… _inviting_ me to smoke?"

"When we're done telling you the truth, you'll be glad I did."

"I'll be glad to know the truth, too." I said.

"Well, I can tell you, Bro. But you won't like it."

"Sis, goddammit, just tell me what the fuck is going on!?"

She told me.

I didn't like it.

A/N: A darn ladykiller, John is.


	11. Shadows Draw Near

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

Reapers.

Huh.

First of all, not exactly the subtlest of names. I let Sis know that, and she had a rather sympathetic yet annoyed look on her face as she told me that the first one she encountered had been equally as dismissive of the moniker. She then seemed a little too delighted in telling me how she killed the shit out of it, and even Miranda seemed like she was wondering if Sis was simply retelling a story or if she was _there_ again.

And then it hit me that every organic civilization for who knows how long had been culled by an utterly ruthless cabal of…whatever the fuck the Reapers were, and then I needed a drink. A really, really, really big drink.

Sis didn't stop me. In fact, she told me that there were times where she considered hitting the bottle herself over the existential crisis that this truth brought.

That didn't help me feel better, amazingly.

Of course, now that the cat was out of the bag, Sis and Miranda stared at me, somewhat expectantly. I stared at them, already starting to feel the buzz take effect, and I shrugged.

"Fine. Fine, I'll help you. I mean, who's gonna believe me if I was spouting shit about extragalactic 'life' killing everything? They'd think I'm no different than the loons with THE END IS NIGH posters…except in this case the loons may just be right."

"That's the position that the Commander found herself in post-Saren." Miranda said. "The Council simply doesn't seem to believe or chooses not to believe in this very true threat, so Cerberus is the only organization behind the Commander that is willing to do what is necessary-"

"Save the stump speech, Miranda." I said, waving my hand dismissively and interrupting her. "I get that you're giving her the guns and shit, but make no mistake. Sis ain't serving you. You're serving _her._ "

"I report to the Illusive Man, technically."

"The _Illusive Man_?" I snorted. "That's gotta be the most pretentious code name I've ever heard of. What, do you even see his face or does he sit in a chair stroking a white cat?"

I notice the hesitant look on Miranda and Sis' faces.

"I was right on one of those things, wasn't I?" I asked, more amused than anything. Sis sighed.

"He doesn't have a white cat…or any cat at all, as far as I know." Miranda said, though her tone of voice was more confused than anything. Clearly this woman was not well-versed in pop culture. Sis was trying not to smile. She _was_ well-versed.

"He doesn't put his pinky finger to the corner of his mouth when he finishes a declaration, if that's what you're wondering." She managed to say with a straight face, further confusing the Cerberus officer next to her.

"Well that's a relief." I said. I narrowed my eyes. "Does he know about me?"

"I was about to compile a finished report to him about our acquisition of you on Omega." Miranda said. "You…weren't factored into our original plans."

"You make me sound like a machine or something." I said. "Like a variable on a TPS report." I cleared my throat. "Does Sis talk to him?"

"Periodically, through cutting-edge Quantum Entanglement Communications." Sis said.

"When's the next time you'll be doing it?"

They both hesitate. I sneer.

"Come on, do you think I'm gonna get you in trouble? I want to meet this man." I paused. "Now."

…

Sis stepped onto the podium where this Quantum-thingy was placed, deep in the bowels of the ship, and I heard a humming noise as the device started to work.

"This isn't a social call." Sis said, speaking to no one in the room. "I'm here to talk business."

"Who's she talking to?" I asked Miranda, who had accompanied us, in my opinion, to make sure that I didn't screw anything up.

"The Illusive Man. All you have to do is step on her platform, and you'll see what's going on."

At that moment, I saw that Sis was subtly gesturing for me to step up and join her on the podium.

"Yeah. I figured instead of just telling you…you could see him in person."

Right as she finished speaking, I stepped onto the podium.

It was like I was in a teleporter. I was in the middle of a massive atrium, a starship somewhere deep in the galaxy…with a beautiful star in the foreground beyond the window-wall. It was in the middle of solar bursts, both in red and blue, as if they were fighting for dominance of the star's finished color. But soon I became aware of the figure sitting in a chair some distance away from us.

At least he didn't have a cat.

"Jonathan Mercer Shepard." The Illusive Man said. There was an amused lilt to his voice, as if I was a charming addition to things. "And I thought that your sister was the only one the galaxy thought dead."

He was dressed to the nines in a nice suit and tie, and had one leg crossed over the other. He was classically handsome, I suppose, though he was getting up in years. He looked pretty good for his age. But those eyes…there was something up with them. Call me crazy, but it looked like they were glowing.

"Cute." I managed to grunt. The Illusive Man leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. He still kept that cryptically amused look on his face.

"I've been called many things, Jonathan, but 'cute' is most definitely a new one." He titled his head ever so noticeably to the side, and raised his eyebrow. "You're looking in good shape for a man that's been living in the galactic equivalent of the ghetto for almost a decade. I assume that the Normandy's medical facilities have been good to you?"

"Good enough." I mutter. Sis isn't saying anything right now. It's like she's judging how I react with this guy.

"It's a shame that you disappeared so soon after your discharge from the Alliance." He said. "You were going to be made an offer to work with us. We could have used a man of your talents."

"Would it have been one of those offers that I couldn't have refused?" I asked. He smirked.

"I wouldn't go that far. You would have been free to turn us down. But we would have convinced you that it would have been best for the galaxy if you considered a career with Cerberus."

"I had enough of regulations in the Alliance, and it got me stranded on Omega and in the galactic equivalent of the 'ghetto,' as you said." I narrowed my eyes. "I doubt I would have meshed with your little…whatever the hell you classify yourself as."

"If we're being technical, I prefer the phrase 'Non-Governmental Superpower.'" The Illusive Man said. "You'd be surprised at the depth of my influence, Jonathan." There was a noticeable trace of smug in the man's voice as he talked.

I hated him already.

"Is that so." I said, not even bothering to inflect properly on my question. He nodded slightly.

"Indeed. I find it interesting that, despite your reticence to joining my organization, you are still on one of my ships anyway."

"I joined because of my sister, not because of you."

"Is that so?" The Illusive Man asked, parroting what I had said with a rather amused tone of voice. "Interesting." He took a drag from a cigarette that he was keeping in his left hand. "I appreciate the want to introduce yourself, Jonathan. Normally this is a bit more of a messy affair, but you've gone and simplified things for me. And now when I read Miss Lawson's report I'll have a better context for what it is that's latched onto your sister's mission." He shrugged. "Perhaps it's necessary to have someone with the dreaded presence of the Butcher of Torfan on this mission."

I hear a sharp intake of breath. It was probably Sis.

I smile, despite myself. I guess it was more of a smirk, if we're being honest. I look down at the ground, and then at him. And I clear my throat.

"So, um, I guess I'm thankful for the chance to be with my Sis, because I know that in the end this is sort of your operation. But I just want to let you know something." I stare him directly in those weird eyes of his that seem to glow in the dark.

"If you ever call me Jonathan again, I. Will. Kill you."

"Oh?" The Illusive Man asked, looking relatively unconvinced. "And how would you do that?" He asked.

My voice is little more than a growl.

" _With my hands around your_ _ **throat.**_ _"_

I storm off, leaving the podium and barely flinching when the world around me returns to that of the Normandy. As I pass by, I barely notice Miranda, but I do get a glimpse of her face.

Her expression is collected, but her face is ashen white.

…

It's a few hours before I hear from anyone else. I sat in the chair next to my cot, quietly and aimlessly spinning one of my Carnifex pistols around on my fingers. I've ejected the heat sinks from the thing; wouldn't want a lecture about getting killed or shooting someone in the face by accident. Especially if it was me.

At that moment, EDI winked to life next to me.

" _Specialist Shepard, you are requested in the Normandy briefing room._ "

Sighing, I get up off of the cot and grab my iDroid and duster.

I see that I'm the last one to arrive in the place. Sis is there, as is Miranda, as is Garrus and Jacob. I guess Mordin and Zaeed and Kasumi are sitting this one out. I look inquisitively towards Sis.

"Glad you made it, Bro." She said. She gestured over to Miranda. "Take it away, Miss Lawson."

"Our next stop is the planet Korlus." Miranda said. "It's known colloquially is 'a garbage scow with a climate,' and the Korlus Tourist Board have vainly tried to brand their home planet as 'the recycling center of the galaxy.'"

"What the hell are we going to a dump for?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"For this man." Miranda said. She pressed a button and a holographic image appeared above the center of the table.

We all stared at it for a moment.

"That's…a big Krogan." Garrus said.

"Warlord Okeer." Miranda said. "Also known as Dr. Okeer. A Krogan scientist who-"

"Those _exist?_ " Garrus asked, drawing a round of snickers from the table. Miranda rolled her eyes.

"A Krogan scientist who was…expelled from Tuchanka for his radical beliefs, concerning the fate of the Krogan in the aftermath of the Genophage. He's been located on Korlus, and has been targeted by the Illusive Man as an excellent addition to the team."

"You're saying that this Krogan got _kicked out of the Krogans_ for being _too extreme?_ " Garrus asked. He was really on a roll.

"That is a rough translation." Miranda said. "Either way, Cerberus does not discount the medical and scientific abilities of Okeer, and he would be an essential addition to the mission."

"Not to be Johnny Raincloud," I found myself speaking. "But are you sure that he would be able to work with Dr. Solus? Didn't the Salarians essentially doom the Krogan people? If he's considered too extreme for even the Krogans, I doubt he's going to take working with Mordin lightly."

"That's a good point, actually." Sis said, folding her arms expectantly and staring at Miranda. "I'm responsible for holding together the morale of this ship, and I don't think it's wise to bring in someone that's as volatile as this."

"Jack." Miranda said, frowning as if this was a perfect argument-ender.

"Jack's…a wildcard, sure." Sis admitted. "But she hates everyone equally. And with enough convincing, I can get her to drop her vendetta against peace and tranquility for the sake of the greater good. But Okeer will have a face to put to his rage…and he won't be happy."

"Will volunteer, then."

We all turned around to see that Dr. Solus had entered the briefing room. The way he'd seemingly visualized out of thin air was uncanny; clearly the good doctor was trained in some sort of military background. Or he was a wizard. There was no other explanation for him showing up that quickly.

"Dr. Solus, we already have a stacked group entering Korlus and-"

"Korlus a dangerous place. Likely wise to stack up. Can even create separate fire teams, if need be." Mordin cut Miranda off. The Cerberus agent threw up her arms in defeat.

"Fine. You can join the gorund team. It will be, at my count, Garrus, the Commander, Doc Shepard, Jacob and now Mordin. And me, of course."

"How are we gonna split fire teams?" Jacob asked.

"Let's go four and two." Sis said. "I'll take Miranda, Jacob and Johnny as the front assault. Mordin can go with Garrus and serve as backup and spotting."

"I don't _need_ a spotter." Garrus said somewhat petulantly. Mordin shrugged.

"Could be useful. Have quick eyes. Might catch something you miss." He had a pleasant grin on his face as he spoke. Garrus muttered something unintelligible, but did not raise his voice enough for the rest of us to hear.

…

It was smoky and smelled awful on the surface of this god-forsaken planet. As the shuttle stabilized itself a few feet off of the ground, Sis gave the all-clear for the front team to dismount. She took cover behind a downed pillar, and the rest of us joined her beside it.

"Eyes up." She said. "We don't know if Okeer is here on Korlus by his own volition, or otherwise." She looked around. "We don't know if there is anyone friendly here, so assume hostile until told otherwise. EDI, can you start scanning for us?"

" _Affirmative, Commander. There is a sizeable Blue Suns presence on this planet, and on this facility where Okeer is allegedly located based on his last transmissions._ "

"Great. Triangulate us a point of reference and we'll head to that spot."

I stepped gingerly out from cover, and peered around. There was no one in sight, and no movement other than the quartet I walked in. Things were calm. Too calm. Nothing but a ringing in my ears.

" _ORDERS, SIR?_ "

I whirl around towards the sound that voice, little more than a harsh whisper in my ears. It's worming its way into the black matter of my brain. The ground is seeped with blood around my feet, and I see…a face in the distance that looked familiar.

" _The Major's down…what are your orders? What now, sir?"_

But then I blink once, and the ringing in my ears stops. And the blood is gone and there is no one there.

I shiver, and blink again. Sis is looking at me with a concerned expression.

"Bro? You okay?"

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine, Sis."

But I think I'm lying.

…

…

…Here they come again. Worming their way into the black matter of my brain.

I tell myself they cannot touch me.

They are long dead.

A/N: Uh oh.


	12. Haunted

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

"You okay, Doc?"

I barely hear Garrus' voice as we make our way through the ruins of those dumpster of a planet. There's been some scattered fire in the distance, and yet none of it has been directed at us yet. But it's only a matter of time. The arrival of the Normandy and the docking shuttle that was released from it couldn't have gone unnoticed.

"…Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." I said.

"You're awfully quiet." Garrus muttered. "Well, moreso than usual."

"I _said_ I'm fine." I grunt. Sis turns back to Garrus.

"Don't pester him, Garrus." She said. She held up her hand, signaling for us all to stop. "Hold up. It's too quiet."

At that moment, gunfire started to pepper the ground around our feet.

"Scatter!" Sis barked, and we all dove behind varying positions of cover. Somewhere in the distance, I heard a voice. It sounded tinny, like it was being played over a loudspeaker. But I couldn't tell what it was through the ringing in my ears.

" _SIR!"_

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around and see Garrus next to me.

" _We need orders, sir! Major Kyle's down!_ "

I stare at him, bug-eyed. Why did Garrus sound like Private Krupin?

I open and closed my mouth silently like a dumb fish, and he repeats himself.

"I _said_ we need to get a flanking position on that Blue Sun up on the overpass!" He said. "I can peg him, but I need you to distract him. Got a few spare rounds in those Carnifex of yours?"

I blink, registering the words that he said to me in his own, Turian voice. And then I nod.

"Yeah…yeah, I gotcha."

I pop out of cover, and strafe from the downed pillar that Garrus and I were hiding behind towards a wall that was protecting Mordin and Miranda. I fire off a few aimless shots at the mercenary on the overpass, a big guy armed with what looks like a gatling gun. He spools it up at the sight of me, but then his head explodes a few seconds later.

"Scoped and dropped!" I hear Garrus crow right as I slide next to the Cerberus operative.

"A bit flashy, don't you think?" She asks somewhat exasperatedly as I reload my pistols. I shrug.

"Did the job, didn't it?" I ask.

"Can't argue with results. Might disagree with methods." Mordin commented, reloading his machine pistol. I take the opportunity to squeeze off a few more rounds to give Miranda and Mordin a few moments of reprieve.

Finally, the dust settled. The last Blue Sun had given up and had literally tried to run away, only for Sis to peg him in the back of the neck with her Vindicator assault rifle. She was always pretty good with that thing.

"Clear!" She barked. "Keep moving forward."

I follow the rest of the group, tagging along in the back alongside Garrus. We round the corner, and I nearly drop my pistols.

…

There's an Alliance soldier, bleeding from a wound to the gut and his face smeared with his own blood, dragging himself around and behind cover. He's lost his helmet, and he's muttering to himself.

"Shit. Shit! It won't stop bleeding…I'm gonna…sunavabitch!"

I make a noise in the back of my throat, like a guttural growl of urgency. This is a man of our ranks dying. Why aren't the others going to help him? Why isn't Janey-

I blink, and then I go numb. He's not an Alliance soldier. He's a Blue Suns merc.

"Doesn't look that bad, actually." Miranda comments quietly. I look around. Clearly no one was paying attention to me.

"He doesn't need to know that." Sis said. By now, the Merc sees us and frowns.s

"I _knew_ it wasn't berserkers. Not at range. You're mercs. Or Alliance. I'm not…I'm not telling you anything." He hissed.

"I've got a nice application of medi-gel ready to go, as well a trained trauma surgeon right next to me." Sis said, pointing to Mordin as she spoke. "But if you'd rather I just kept walking…"

"Son of a…" The merc growls. "I just, I don't know anything. I just shoot the overflow from the labs. The old Krogan up there, he's really been cleaning house lately." He looked over his shoulder behind him, as if he feared a reprisal. "Jedore hired him to make her an army, but the krogan he creates are insane, so we just them for live ammo training. It's all crap; I don't get paid enough to goddamn bleed out."

A pointless exercise of militarization. Endless bodies to shoot. No clear endgame in sight. This is all far too familiar and I don't like it one bit.

" _Outpost Four? Jedore wants us to move. We need coordinates on that Krogan pack._ "

It sounds like his buddies are waiting on him to call in. I wonder what Sis is gonna do.

She stares at the radio, and then at him. When she speaks, it's ice cold.

"I want your friends gone. Understand?"

He stares at her for a moment, and then sighs.

"Uh…patrol? The last group…dispersed. Lost sight five minutes ago."

" _Dispersed? Jedore will be pissed. She wanted a show."_

"If you find a shady spot somewhere, you might be comfortable before you bleed out." Sis said.

"Shit… _shit!_ "

The merc hobbled away. Miranda watched him go, and smirked.

"The scare was a nice touch."

"I thought so." Sis said. She turned to face the others, looking at me as she spoke. "Come on. Our Warlord is somewhere in this 'Jedore's' labs and…" She narrows her eyes, concern etched on her face. "Bro, you okay? You're looking a little pale."

"I'm fine, Sis. Didn't get much sleep last night." I said. She tilts her head to the side, but seems to buy my explanation. She orders us to move out. I notice that as we do, Miranda is keeping a close eye on me.

…

There's a few Blue Suns mercs along our path, but they're pretty scattered. Sis has us fanned in a starburst formation, with her in the center. Mordin and Miranda are up front. I'm at the left, with Garrus in the rear and Jacob over to the right. It's an efficient formation, I suppose, especially for a small unit, but it's too quiet. There's no action. I find myself itching for something to happen.

There's a ringing in my ears. And I blink to see that I'm holding a rifle. Why am I holding a rifle, more specifically why am I holding my service rifle from my time in the armed forces? I only use-

The Carnifex are in both of my hands, as if nothing had happened.

I look up, and nearly fall over myself.

There's a masked Krogan in front of us. He's big, but he's not firing. He stares at Sis, those yellow eye holes of his mask glowing, and he speaks.

"You…are different." He said. "New. You don't smell like this world. Sveen night cycles, and I have felt only the need to kill. But you…something makes me speak."

"He's pretty…big for a week old." Jacob said. I stay silent, hoping the others haven't noticed how quiet I've been.

"They must breed them full-size, ready to kill." Sis said. "Not much improvement over…"

Her words fade away, and I find my mind wandering again. Back to the last time I witnessed something bred solely for the purpose of war. Back to a time where I was a different man than I am today.

 _Jonathan Mercer Shepard? It's a pleasure to have someone with your family's pedigree as my second-in-command._

 _Of course, Major Kyle. Though I think your confidence in me is a little unfounded._

 _Nonsense. You're a Shepard. Your mother is an excellent captain. Your father was a great man. And I suppose you already know what I could say about your sister._

"Bro?"

I blink, and the memories swim away. We're walking again. I've been on autopilot, still ready to shoot anything that moved even though I wasn't thinking. Because my body might be moving, but my mind wasn't with it. The tank-born Krogan is gone. Did we kill it? Did we just let it walk away? I have no idea.

"Yeah?" I grunt.

"You're being awfully quiet. Just wanted to make sure that everything is alright."

"You're usually a bit snarkier than this." Miranda said. That sounded surprisingly like a compliment. The tone of voice wasn't even condescending. I shrug.

"I'm fine. Just keeping my head on a swivel. This is my first warzone in…well, you know." I clear my throat. "Don't worry about me; I'm fine."

…

We fought our way through the facility, cutting through the litany of Blue Suns in our way. That lady Jedore is getting more desperate on the loudspeaker. By the sound of it, she is about to take matters into her own hands. Can't say I blame her. For who knows how long, she was running herself a little butcher shop of Krogan and Blue Suns in the name of some pointless advantage, and now here comes a small group of soldiers to ruin it. Most likely forever.

We ran into this one Asari scientist along the way. Rana something or other. She was pretty, which I suppose is a requirement for Asari, but definitely a bit looser in the ethics department. Sis knew her from somewhere before. I didn't catch the name, but I did catch the venom in Sis' voice as she brought it all up again. That Asari looked like she was gonna piss herself in fright, and Sis hadn't even gotten _really_ angry at her. And yet, surprisingly, Sis let her just…walk away. Even though something about her didn't feel right.

So I peppered the ground around her feet with a few well-placed Carnifex rounds. It wasn't gonna hit her, and if it did it might mean a broken toe here or there. Nothing she couldn't get treated. I just didn't want her to think that she could walk out of here unscathed.

As the smoke hissed from the spent heat sink, I turned and looked at the group around me. They were all staring at me in varying degrees of confusion. Sis looked briefly annoyed.

"Did that really accomplish anything, Bro?" She asked. I shrugged.

"Made me feel better."

To my surprise, Sis cracked a smile.

"You know, I guess it made me feel better too. Maybe now she'll think twice about joining a _third_ ethically ambiguous science program."

…

Finally, we found ourselves face to face with this Warlord Okeer. He was…surprisingly smaller than I expected. I guess the hologram imager made him look bigger, the way that they said the television added a couple of pounds. He turned around from his terminal, and gave a crooked smile.

"And here you are! I've watched your progress."

He spoke with a deep voice, which I figure was a Krogan requirement, and there was just a hint of pretentiousness in his tone. It must come with the territory of being the only Krogan crazy enough to fancy yourself a "scientist."

"It's about time!" He harrumphed. "The batteries on these tanks will not wait while you play with these idiotic mercs."

"Doctor Okeer, I presume?" Sis asked. "Though I have to say that you don't seem thrilled that we're here to help."

"You may claim to be here to help, but the formerly dead Commander Shepard is not a sign of gentle change."

He had a point, I suppose. Sis was a mountain-mover if there ever was one. He smirked a bit.

"Surprised that I know of you? _All_ Krogan should know your actions on Virmire, and I'm sure that Rana has already revisited your little encounter from that wretched planet."

I noticed a rather visible grimace on Sis' face at the mention of that name. Virmire. That was the name of that planet that the Asari had mentioned. Clearly from the look of it, Sis had done something there that was stuck in her craw.

"I wish I could have done it differently." Sis said, somewhat quietly. I noticed a twinge of regret in her eyes. "I wish things had gone better…"

"Ah!" Okeer said. "But I approve. Saren's pale horde were not _true_ alone are nothing. The mistake of an outsider, one that these mercenaries have also made."

Judging by Sis' expression, clearly this Okeer guy had missed the point of Sis' regret. Furthermore, his little stump speech on the Krogan of Virmire, whatever the hell he meant by "pale," sounded an awful lot like the views of a eugenicist.

Okeer turned towards the window overlooking one of the many hangars in this decrepit building, and threw his arms out somewhat dramatically.

"I gave their leader my rejects for her army. But she grows impatient. It's time for you to take me out of here."

"We're here about Collectors, not your problems." Garrus said, somewhat sharply. Turians and Krogan never really got along, and I guess the sounds of Okeer's experiments weren't sitting well with Archangel.

"I see…" Okeer said. "Yes. Collector attacks _have_ increased. A human concern. However, my efforts have been focused elsewhere."

He pointed to a stasis pod. We all looked inside it…at one of the largest Krogan I had ever seen. His eyes were open but unseeing. His chest wasn't moving, though that might be because of the tank's life support system. And he was dressed in some of the strongest-looking Krogan battle armor I had ever seen as well. This thing looked like, dare I say it, the perfect Krogan.

"I acquired the knowledge to create one pure soldier. With that, I will inflict upon the genophage the greatest insult an enemy can suffer. To be _ignored._ "

"Do not underestimate Genophage mutatory abilities." Mordin said, somewat coldly. I didn't think the guy had it in him.

"Exactly the response I would expect from a Salarian scientist." Okeer growled. Sis stepped in between them, sensing the powder keg we could all be sitting on.

"Your methods are extreme, but I will admit that you know how to deconstruct a threat. Will you help us?" She asked Okeer. The Krogan shrugged.

"Perhaps a deal can be made. My prototype will-"

He was cut off by the sound of a voice over the loudspeaker. Down in the atrium below, there was a single woman in powered-up Blue Suns gear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm calling 'blank slate' on this project. Gas these commandoes and Okeer and start over using his data. Flush them all!"

At first I hear Okeer's enraged indignation that his legacy is being threatened, and then the sounds of him telling Sis to do…something. I don't know what. Because I'm already gone. I'm no longer here. I'm no longer with my sister.

 _Gas these commandoes…Flush them all!_

Gas.

Gas.

And I'm back on Torfan all over again.

…

I don't hear the sounds of the others as I race through the doorway and out into the atrium. There was a Blue Suns merc that had been about to sneak his way into the room behind us. My first punched shattered his visor. The second one caved in his eye socket and he went down. I hear the bullets whistling around me, and even one of them knicks the shoulder of my duster. I don't feel it.

I have to get to her. I have to save them.

I strafe between the pods, ignoring and dodging any shot that comes towards me. Some of the Blue Suns are shooting at me, while the others are starting to fire on another position. Maybe Sis and the others have finally entered the fray.

I don't care. I have to save them. I have to save them. I can hear them choking. Crying.

I feel a dull pain in my right arm, but ignore it. I feel the sticky warm sensation of blood, but it doesn't matter. I'm within arms reach of her.

Jedore managed to throw one good haymaker, but she's trained as a shooter, not a brawler.

And brawling is all I was good at.

I sweep her legs out from under her, and with my left foot pin her to the ground.

And then I raise my pistols and fire.

I keep firing and firing. Until I hear the trigger clicking harmlessly.

Something tells me to stop.

I don't listen.

…

And just like that, there is silence. I blink once. The ringing in my ears is gone. Their screams and choking is gone. And I'm just standing there in the middle of the atrium, and I look down and see Jedore.

What's left of her, anyway.

I slowly turn around. There are a few Blue Suns left, but they aren't shooting. I guess they couldn't believe what they just saw, or something like that. Who knows.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I tense up at first, but then I relax when I realize that it's a friendly.

"John." The word cuts me to the bone. "John, it's okay. It's over."

I stare into the distance for a very, very long time. Then I look at my sister, and into her shining eyes.

And I holster my pistol. And with them, my shadows go away.

Until the next time.

A/N: Pretty heavy stuff. Let me know what you think. If it was confusing to follow, remember that John isn't exactly in the most stable of places. Sometimes his narration might get confusing.


	13. Heart to Heart

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

The ride back in the shuttle was eerily quiet, at least from my perspective. I didn't say anything. No one else did. What was there to say, really?

It was a failed mission. While Sis had been bringing me back from wherever it was that I had been, Miranda had taken the initative to bring Jacob and Mordin with her to check on Warlord Okeer. He was dead. The gas hadn't even been directed out into the main atrium; it had all been funneled into his laboratory. And even though we'd flushed it out with the emergency fans, it was too late for the Krogan. He'd left behind a rambling holovid telling us that he didn't know why the Collectors were targeting Human colonies, and that if he knew he'd gladly have told us. And then he collapsed, asphyxiated by whatever it was that Jedore had pumped through the air.

And he'd left us this Krogan popsicle that was attached to the bottom of the shuttle, for whatever reason and future we had for it.

When the shuttle docked in the Normandy, we all went our separate ways for debriefing. Well, I was about to, but then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around. It was Sis.

"John…" She whispered quietly, taking care to respect my privacy. "What happened?" She had a look of sisterly concern on her face. Any coldness that she'd had towards me in the beginning was gone. I stared at her blankly, and then I sighed. Something in me sort of clicked, I guess. And I spoke.

"I don't know, Sis. Don't know what got into me."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sis asked. "Not here, obviously. We can always, you know, go somewhere where the others won't interrupt." She seemed a little hesitant. Was probably already waiting for me to brush her off. But instead of the usual coldness I felt in me whenever someone, _anyone_ asked me that goddamn line, I just felt resigned.

"Okay." I said.

…

The captain's quarters were a lot spacier than I thought they'd be. Sis was a lucky girl to be flying in such cushy comfort. There was even a fishtank that covered an entire wall. It was both really cool and really impractical at the same time. Also kind of creepy, considering that Sis had never been able to keep a pet alive for very long when we were growing up. I wondered if she continued that rather unfortunate tradition in the years since I'd seen her last.

She took a seat on the couch in the middle of the main room, and gestured for me to sit down in a very, _very_ comfortable chair. It certainly felt better than the one that I'd been sitting on in that little hole in the wall Zaeed and I called home. I wondered how the old bastard was doing. I'd better check in on him soon; the crusty old geezer didn't show it, but I think he liked me. If only because he thought I was just as crazy as he was.

"EDI?" Sis asked. EDI winked to life at an outlet nearby.

" _Yes, Commander?_ "

"If Miranda or anyone asks, I am currently indisposed. Indefinitely."

" _Of course, Commander. Might I inquire for a reason if Miss Lawson presses? She is remarkably persistant about this sort of thing._ "

Sis looks me in the eye when she speaks.

"I'm making up for seven years. Or, at least starting."

" _…Understood, Commander. Logging you out._ "

…

"She seems pleasant." I said, breaking the ice after a few moments of silence.

"EDI? Yeah, she does a good job." Sis said. "I was a little bit…concerned about using an actual AI, but so far she hasn't gone Skynet on me. Yet."

"I dunno, Sis. She strikes me more as the Hal 9000 type."

We both chuckle a little bit. It's the first little laugh I've shared wih my sister in seven years. That's a lot longer than it feels.

"…Was it rough?"

I blink, and stare at her. She's got a sort of sad look on her face. And I can tell that the question must have been awkward as hell to ask. I sigh.

"Life after leaving? Yeah, a little bit." I pause. "I might be understating it, I suppose."

"Where did you go?" She asked.

"Wherever I could afford. I usually hopped in freighters and snuck in with the cargo. There was a certain degree of thrill in wondering if this was gonna be the cargo freighter that didn't have an air pocket for the storage goods, but never once did I think I was gonna suffocate in there."

"When…when did you get to Omega?" Sis asked.

"About a year ago. Maybe two." I say. I wince. "It's hard to remember. I was…I was on a lot of things. The years sort of blur together."

She looks heartbroken. I keep talking.

"I, uh, I guess I indulged in my baser side. Loved a lot of girls, never stuck around. Drank a lot. Fought a lot." I smirk. "A _lot._ " I hold up my knuckles so that Sis can see the criss-crossed patterns of scars that cover my fists. I was always the boxer of the family, focused on hitting hard. Sis was the quicker one. It doesn't surprise me that she carries less scars and physical damage than I do.

"Get anyone pregnant?" Sis asked. I laughed despite myself.

"No. I was loose but not stupid. For that reason, I avoided Asari like the plague; I don't know if it's possible to have anything other than procreational sex with them. Some of them over the years made it…pretty hard, though. I guess I see where the appeal comes, Sis."

She winces at that. Badly. I must have ripped open a wound of some sort.

"Touch a nerve?" I ask.

"No. No, just…it's complicated." Sis said. I figure since we're probably both gonna be opening up our souls to each other by the end of the night, I might as well go for it. Why the fuck not.

"What's her name?" I asked.

"…Liara." Sis said after an eternity's worth of silence, even though it was likely closer to a few seconds. "Her name's Liara T'Soni."

"That's a pretty name. Musical, even by Asari standards." I said, leaning back in the chair. "You love her, Sis?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. Or, I did. But…"

"But you died."

"Yes. And I haven't seen her since." Sis said. "I'm afraid of seeing her again. I don't know what she'll think." She looks at me and gives a helpless shrug. "You ever feel like this, Bro?"

She has no idea.

"I might've." I said. "Again, the chems and booze dulled my memory of the past seven years."

"Jesus, John, what the hell were you running from?" She asked.

My silence tells her everything.

"John?"

"Yeah, Jane?"

"Why did you…you know?"

"Why did I go after that lady and shoot her until you couldn't tell her ID without a dental records pull?"

"…Yeah."

I gulp. I can't believe I'm even saying this now. I hope they don't come for me again. They're dead, goddammit. Dead and in the ground. Leave me be, I'm trying to talk to my sister.

"…Because she was gonna use gas on us. The Batarians used gas on Torfan."

"Oh, shit…Jesus, John I…"

"It's okay, Sis. It just…" I struggle for the words. "It was pretty fucking awful. I'll spare you the details. But, uh, just to explain, that's why I went ballistic back there on Korlus. I heard the lady call for the gas and I found myself on Torfan all over again. And I couldn't let myself have that happen again. I understand if that was, um, unprofessional, but I couldn't do it. I don't know what got over me."

"John, it's okay. I'm always here for you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." I said.

There is silence again. And then I clear my throat.

"My turn."

She looks at me and nods.

"Ask away."

"What's Virmire?"

Oh man, that look. It's soul-wrenching. She doesn't show much, but her eyes are utterly pained like someone has broken her heart and rendered helpless. I can barely keep eye contact.

"Virmire was…a mission. A mission from before."

"I see." I said, mostly to keep her talking, and to let her know that I was there.

"We were tasked to stop Saren, you know, the rogue Spectre, at a research facility of his that was producing Krogan like a petri dish. And in order to do that, we had to set off a nuclear device. We did, but…"

"…But not everyone got out, right?" I asked.

"…Someone stayed behind. I couldn't save them both." Sis muttered, barely audible.

"Who was that brave soul?"

Sis looks at me, and takes a deep breath.

"His name was Kaidan. Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko. He was the head of the marine detail on the Normandy SR1 and the best damn biotic I'd ever met. He was a great soldier, and an excellent level head. He was my conscience, even when the world was going nuts around us."

"Did you…" I trail off, and she chuckles humorlessly as she figures out what I was implying.

"No! Heh, goodness no. Kaidan and I were never…together. I think he might have been gay. Or bi. Either way, he wasn't interested in me like that and neither was I. Didn't ever have any problems with him like that. In fact, if I think about it, he was the one that told me to go talk to Liara when she was feeling down about…" Sis sniffled, and trailed off. "I let him die for the damnedest reason, John. It was tactical fucking appraisal. He was defending an anti-air defense tower, and the rest was guarding the nuclear device. I couldn't let Saren deactivate the bomb. I…I had to go back." A single tear fell down her cheek. "His last words…he must have switched off his comlink afterwards, because he told me that he didn't regret a thing. I hope it was quick."

There was another silence between us.

"Who did you save?" I asked.

"Her name's Ashley Williams."

"Williams? Like…"

"Yep, her granddad surrendered at Shanxi. She had a _massive_ chip on her shoulder about it. I remember breaking up a fight between her and Garrus because the latter suggested that her granddad did the smart thing and Ashley took it as an affront. She was a little bit prickly around the aliens…at first." Sis smiled. "But Ash grew up quickly. Maybe I was a good influence on her, or maybe she just needed to see that not every alien in the galaxy is trying to kill us. Garrus and Tali and Wrex and Liara…"

The way she trails off at that last name? I know that Sis is head over heels about this girl. None of her other girlfriends _ever_ got this kind of reaction from her. Not even Chloe, and there was a damned good chance that the two of them were gonna elope if things hadn't gone…south back in high school. I think Sis still thinks she needs to make it up to me somehow that I had come with the car and some clothes for her to put on at three in the goddamn morning after…well, I guess that's not my business.

"But Ashley Williams is a good soldier, and a good person. I hope to see her again soon. I hope to see them all soon. But I'm still haunted that I couldn't save Kaidan either." She looked at me, and stared at me with those resolute eyes. "And I won't lose you either."

I smile a bit. It's the truest thing that she has ever said to me.

And it breaks my heart knowing that I haven't told her everything. Not yet, anyway.

…

Some time later, I leave her room. We talked about a lot of things. Music, life, family, how to break to Mom that both of her children were alive…we decided to do it one after the other so that the poor lady didn't have a heart attack. And then Sis said that we were all going to the Citadel for a spell. Both as R&R as well as a business call. I can dig that. But for now, I need to get away for a bit. Just forget about the heavy conversation I just had with the sister that doesn't give up.

I find myself sitting at the bar at the edge of the mess hall. It's really, really late. There's no one else there except for me, and Gardner, who looks just as tired as I feel. I talked to Jack earlier: she basically gave me a big thumbs up about the way I'd taken care of Jedore. I wasn't sure how to feel about that compliment, but at least she isn't about to kill me anytime soon. I guess she wasn't kidding; the fact that I was capable of obscene violence was a ticket off of her shit list. And considering how easily she got angry and how easily she crushed her opponents…I was glad to avoid the bad.

Someone takes a seat next to me.

"Get me the usual, Gardner."

Well, this is a surprise.

"Are you a vampire, Lawson?" I mutter. "Because as far as I know you don't sleep."

"Judging by the fact that you're still up, I have to assume the same of you." Miranda said. "Though I don't trash my body nearly as much as you have, judging by Chakwas' analysis."

"Did you seriously go through my medical reports?" I ask, somewhat incredulously but with not nearly the energy to inflect properly.

"Please." Miranda looks at me, and there's a hint of smugness in her voice. That as well as…is that sarcasm? "I go through _everyone's_ medical reports."

"I didn't think that was the job of an XO."

"I'm not a typical XO, Doc."

"Eh. I guess John is fine, too."

At this, Miranda actually turns to look at me. She looks somewhat surprised.

"Did I hear that right? Did you, the great and mighty Jonathan Mercer Shepard, grant me permission to use your first name?"

"With that, you might have lost your privilege." I growl, and she smirks. "Just keep it to John. No one calls me Jonathan anymore."

"Who used to?" Miranda asked, taking the cup of hot chocolate from Gardner. He's given me one too, because he was feeling nice, I guess?

"My father." I said. Her smile fades.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

"Nah, you didn't know." But then I pause and think. "Actually, you probably _do_ know."

She has a slightly guilty look on her face.

"Seriously, Miranda, did you dig through _every_ piece of my records?"

"I'm meticulous." Miranda said. "It's part of how my fath-how I was raised."

That might have been the first time that I've ever heard her verbally backtrack. Now it's my turn to look at her.

"Not on the best terms with Daddy Lawson?" I asked. She frowns.

"That's…putting it mildly." Miranda said. I nod.

"I gotcha."

"Are you feeling…stable?" Miranda asked. "Your little incident at the end of the mission was…out of the norm for you."

"Why Miranda, that almost sounds like you are concerned about me." I said, cracking a smile. "And yeah, I'm fine."

She gives a tiny little smirk of her own.

"I can't have the people under the Commander falling to pieces. I need to be able to handle these sorts of things."

There's a loud banging coming from one of the lower rooms below us. We lookat each other.

"Shepard."

"Sis."

We both race down the stairs.

…

Miranda opens the door, and I immediately draw my Carnifex.

"Put her down or I'll put _you_ down, you overgrown lizard." I snarl.

Sis woke up the Krogan. Of course she did.

"I am Grunt." The Krogan rumbles. He has a deep voice, but not quite as bombastic as Okeer's was. "Your Commander Shepard must prove herself worthy of my service by attempting to destroy me."

"That's…what logic is that?" Miranda sputtered.

"Okeer's imprint on me as failed. I feel nothing for him or his enemies or ideals. Without ideals and a reason that is mine, any fight as is good as the others. Might as well start with her."

"Our enemies are strong, but we are stronger. And there is no one as unkillable as I." Sis said. "Join me, and you will have plenty of enemies to kill. Strong enemies, worthy of being slain by a Krogan."

A little bombastic. I like it, Sis.

"Hmm…Hmph! An interesting speech. But I approve. Very well. I shall fight for you, Shepard." Grunt said. Sis smiled sweetly.

"Glad you saw reason."

That was when we all saw that she'd had a pistol trained on Grunt's gut the entire time.

"Hah! Offer one hand and arm the other. Wise, Shepard. If I find a clan, if I find what…I want, I shall be honored to pit them against you."

"Um…that sounded rather dangerous. Are you sure this was wise, Commander?" Miranda asked. Sis shrugged.

"I can kill him if it comes down to it. But I trust that he will be satisfied with the enemies we're facing. How many Krogan can say that they've killed a Collector?"

"Collector…unfamiliar. Okeer might have mentioned something, but the memory is hazy. Worthless. But the prospect is…inviting." Grunt said.

He turns around, and he looks at me with a sense of recognition.

"Ah. I see that the Commander has an ample addition to her warclan. Greetings, Venom."

All goes quiet.

"…What did you just call me?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"Before he died like a whelp, Okeer was speaking to the very end." Grunt said. "He witnessed you destroy the mercenary leader, and spoke of the mighty venom that must flow through your veins, for your combat bloodlust to be so great. A suitable name, just as suitable as Grunt for myself. If the Commander has you, then perhaps this place is worth my time after all."

He has no idea. It's been nothing but a cheap coincidence. I breathe a sigh of relief.

But all the same, it is disturbing to be called my codename for Torfan once again.

I can't escape that goddamn rock.

A/N:


	14. A Family Affair

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

I'll admit, I am a cynical and pessimistic bastard. I can be difficult to get along with on my best days, and downright intolerable on my worst. I tend to view things with a very jaded mindset. After all, the world and the galaxy I've lived in is bitter and cold. I am haunted by shadows that I cannot escape. I'm a grouch.

And every time I see it, I think the Citadel is the most beautiful goddamn thing in the galaxy.

Joker is practically sleepwalking as he glides the Normandy into one of the many, _many_ spaceports on one of the arms of this massive testament to galactic power and might. He's clearly done this so many times that he doesn't even worry anymore. And with that EDI guiding him, I can tell that he's even less concerned than he normally is. Which is probably a negligible amount to begin with.

After we feel the clamping of the magnetized locks that hold the Normandy in place, Sis calls a specialist staff meeting. Everyone is getting 48 hours of shore leave. During that time, we're supposed to stick within…about a twenty minute radius of the Normandy, in case we need to get called back. But for now, there doesn't seem to be anything worth getting worried about. A lot of the crew seems relieved to be off the ship for a little bit, and I can't say that I blame them. It's nice to get on the Citadel.

However, Sis and I know that we're about to face the most daunting and horrifying creation that Humanity has ever spawned. A monstrosity so magnificent, so grotesque, that I can barely describe it, lest one flee from the room in terror. If the Council knew of the existence of this atrocity, they would have denied our entrance into the galactic community and maybe even declared unilateral war.

Customs.

…

"What do you _mean_ I need to file paperwork?"

"I'm sorry sir, it's a simple policy measure. We need to keep track of everyone that comes and goes from the Citadel these days."

"I've never had to file a…CBP form? What in the Spirits is that? I've been able to go to and from the Citadel with no issues, because I am _not_ an issue!"

"I understand that, sir, but you still need to fill out a form. It's a security issue."

"Security issue? Oh, I see how it is. A big Turian with over a decade of military experience comes in with a gun strapped to his back, and your first thought is that he's a disgruntled First Contact vet with a chip on his shoulder and a bone to pick? Am I right?"

"Sir, I didn't mean to insinuate-"

" _You humans are all racist!_ "

I guess I don't blame that Turian. He's been standing in line ever since we got here, and I think a small part of why he's so annoyed is the fact that Sis' party got here and has appropriate visas and everything. It must be Cerberus greasing the wheel a little bit so that we don't have to deal with the mountain of red tape, but I'm not one to complain.

We get to the kiosk right outside one of the gates into the Presidium. There's a bored-looking lady at the kiosk.

"Place your hand here." She says without looking up, gesturing to a little palm scanner in front of her. Sis goes first, placing her hand on the machine. It takes a few moments, and then there's a beeping. The lady looks up, and then looks at the terminal next to her.

"Um…can you scan that again, please?" She asked in that sandpaper voice of hers. Sis rolls her eyes, and repeats the procedure. Again, the machine beeps. The lady looks somewhat confused.

"So, um, Miss Jane Shepard. You're all clear, but there's a small problem."

"That being?" Sis asked.

"Well, um, according to my records you're _dead._ "

"I was only mostly dead." Sis said. "Slightly alive, believe it or not."

"Oh boy…this is gonna be fun…" The lady said. She put a hand on her walkie talkie. "Captain Bailey? You're gonna want to see this." She gestured for me to place my hand next.

A nicer-sounding beep, but when the lady reda the terminal next to her she got white as a sheet. She reached for her walkie talkie again.

"…Captain Bailey? You might want to double-time it."

…

Captain Bailey looks like your standard cop captain from one of those old pre-holovid police procedurials. Like from the original _Law and Order_. What was that bald-headed bastard's name again? Craglin? Bailey here is a dead ringer for the guy.

I can also tell that he's crooked. When you've lived on the fringe as long as I have, you start noticing these sorts of things. The smile that is too saccharine. The eyes are too tired. They don't match. And the hunched shoulders, like an invisible weight is slowly added to you with every dirty moment of your career. But there's something that's different about Bailey: He doesn't have the hunched shoulders, and the spark hasn't left his eyes. Yet. That might be a good thing.

"As I live and breathe…" He muttered, staring at the two of us. There's a pause. And then he speaks. "Your mother is going to be _furious_ when she hears you two are on the Citadel."

"You know Mom?" Sis asked.

"Not personally, no. But I was at the funeral, Commander. Her eulogy was wonderful. Heartbreaking. If she doesn't slap you for not calling her, she's gonna faint because she'll be staring at a miracle in the flesh." He extended a hand. "Let them through, Janice. They're not gonna be causing any trouble…that we can't take care of."

Sis took it.

"Nice to meet you, Captain Bailey."

"Consider me an unofficial liason for your operations here on the Citadel." Captain Bailey said, as he led the two of us into his office, located somewhere in the Zakera Ward. "Someone with the pedigree of Commander Shepard probably doesn't need to deal with half of the red tape that C-Sec piles up over the course of one hour, let alone one day or week."

"This sounds like you're giving me preferential treatment, Captain." Sis said, and I could just hear the righteousness in her voice. "I'm no different than the rest of the citizens on this station."

Bailey just laughed.

"Really? And I suppose that just anyone could take down that big ship Sovereign and take down a rogue SPECTRE at the same time?" Captain Bailey said. "Nonsense. Don't consider it preferential treatment, consider it a reward for how important you were." He pressed a few buttons on his terminal. "I've updated your file on the Citadel so that if anything happens, you get rerouted to me personally. Enjoy your stay…and work, on the Citadel. Just try not to make a mess." He said with a wink, and then ushered us out of the door.

…

"I don't like that."

"Don't like what, Sis?" I asked. "The fact that Bailey is gonna go easy on you?"

"The fact that he's giving me better treatment than other people." Sis said, as we walked through the pristine gardens of the Citadel. The rest of the specialists were holed up in some hotel on the Presidium ward, and I just knew that the Illusive Man was footing the bill. Sis and I had gone alone, mostly because we didn't get too many opportunities to interact by our lonesome.

"Having a bendable cop isn't a bad thing, Sis."

"It is if you let it be that way for too long." Sis said, frowning.

"Janey, how many times are we gonna interact with this guy during our mission? Once? Twice? If things go the way you think they will with…whoever it is that you want to meet here in the Presidium, then I think we won't have to worry about it."

"I don't like knowing that people are compromising their values to make my work succeed."

At this, I stop and look her in the eye.

"Janey, I'm gonna let you in on a secret. The number of incorruptible people in the galaxy can be counted on one hand, and you are one of them. The rest of us are fickle and ultimately self-serving at heart. The best you can do is sense their shatterpoints and then bend them in your favor."

"What if I was evil, like the Reapers?" Sis asked.

"First off, you're no one but you. And secondly, you're not one of them. And _thirdly,_ you happen to be on the side of the angels, to put a bit of a finer point on it. So it _isn't a problem_ that you're bending people."

"That doesn't sound much better." Sis said with a sigh. "Because then who decides what's right and what's wrong? Me? I'm hardly infallible."

"Sis, you are the only person in the galaxy that I might disagree with on that point. The closest, anyway."

She smiles slightly, but it's clear that we've hit a wall. She leads the two of us into an elevator, and with that we head upwards in some unknown direction.

"Who are we meeting, Sis?" I asked, taking the moment to absently toss my Carnifex in my hand. The safety's off and there isn't a round in the gun. I might be reckless, but I'm not stupid. Sis looks at me.

"Anderson."

I nearly dropped the gun.

" _Admiral_ Anderson?" I asked. "As in, _the_ Admiral David Anderson?" She seems to be enjoying my stupefication. So she goes in for the kill.

"The very same. Though these days he goes by _Councilor._ "

…

We enter the office of the Human Councilor as he's clearly in the middle of something. Admiral David Anderson is something of a folk hero to us grunts in the Alliance, to be honest. And that might be the only thing keeping me from laughing at his current get-up. He is better in military gear; but somehow he makes the pajamas of the Council look dignified.

" _This meeting would progress a lot quicker if Udina was present._ "

That must be one of the Councilors. I glance off to the side and see a trio of holographic figures: Turian, Salarian, and Asari. I'm guessing the Asari is the one that just talked.

"My advisor is unavailable. As Councilor, I represent the voice of Humanity and the Alliance."

Damn, Anderson has a hell of a voice. Makes me want to stand in formal attention, even when he isn't talking to me.

"Shepard will be here any mom-Oh, Jane! We were just talking about you."

The smile on his face is enough to light up the entire room. Sis chuckles, and honest-to-god gives the man a hug. I wonder what the other ponces on the Council think of this breach of decorum. I don't give a shit, to be honest.

"It's been a long time, Anderson." Sis said warmly. "I hope the last couple of years have treated you right."

"There's been some rough spots." Anderson said. "…It's good to have you back."

" _We've heard many rumors surrounding your unexpected return._ " The voice of the Salarian Councilor said. " _Some of them are…unsettling._ "

" _We called this meeting so you could explain your actions, Shepard._ " The Asari Councilor said. " _We owe you that much. After all, you saved our lives in the battle of the Citadel against Saren and his Geth._ "

"Saren wasn't the one commanding the Geth, Councilor." Sis said. "It was the Reaper, Sovereign."

" _Ah yes, Reapers. The immortal race of sentient starships allegedly waiting in dark space. We have dismissed that claim._ "

" _Sparatus, that is unnecessary._ " The Asari Councilor said. " _Shepard_ _ **has**_ _been gone for two years. It makes sense that her-"_

"Sparatus?"

I speak up, surprising everyone in the room. I'm a big guy, but I have a tendency to disappear if you aren't paying attention. I'd been fishing for a cigar in my pocket when I heard her say that snake's name. It was time for me to speak up.

" _I'm sorry, who are you, again?_ " The Turian Councilor asked. I stepped forward so that all of them could see me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Admiral Anderson's eyes widen slightly in recognition.

"The name's Shepard." I said. "And I don't like it when people treat my sister like a joke."

" _Sister? Shepard…Oh Spirits, there's more of them._ " Sparatus looked like he'd been told that Christmas had been cancelled. I could practically see the storm cloud forming over his head. But I wasn't done.

"Yeah. There's more of us. But I'm surprised you didn't recognize me. After all, we've met before."

" _I doubt that."_ Sparatus said.

"I mean, I guess I'm kind of misremembering." I said. "Because you weren't using that name. But I remember your face. You were there in the briefing rooms. You were there, all those years ago." I said. I felt the rage building within me. "You told us there would be minimal resistance, you snake."

" _Sparatus, what is he talking about?_ " The Asari Councilor asked.

" _Nothing, Tevos._ " Sparatus said. " _It's simply the talk of a crazy person. Exactly the sort that Commander Shepard would attract._ "

That did it.

"Listen up, pal." I said. "Call me whatever you want. I was just another nameless grunt to throw into the fire of Torfan, all because you wanted to settle a political point somewhere with the Batarians, using us as the ballast. Fine. I can live with that. You don't give a shit about me, and I sure don't give a shit about you." I look him in the eyes. "But if I ever hear you bad mouth my sister again, you will _suffer._ " I look at Sis, and then at Anderson. "Call me when you're done with this bullshit. I'll be out in the gardens."

With that, I stormed off without a word.

…

The Presidium gardens were immaculate, clean, and peaceful. I heard some children playing tag amongst the hedges, and saw a Hanar talking to a Salarian about something. Some of the kids were Asari, some of them were human. Their parents were off doing something other than watching them. I looked at them all, and I sighed. They were taking a pretty long time up there.

"Excuse me, sir?"

I turned towards the voice. A little Asari girl was looking at me. She had to be a baby, even by human standards: no more than ten years old, I bet. What a thought. To be ten as a human? That's a childhood. This little girl might as well have been born yesterday.

"Yeah?" I grunt, but I took off some of the roughness. No need to scare her.

"Are you lost?"

I blink once.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were lost?" The Asari girl asked. She was in one of those kiddie sundresses, yellow with white lining. She must have a human father…or mother. I was never good at determining the difference in Asari gender relations. And I was sick of being called an anthropocentric bag of dicks.

"No…I'm just waiting." I said.

"For what?"

Christ, this kid was persistent.

"My family. My sister, really. She's up there." I pointed to the Presidium tower. "She's…uh, doing important stuff. For us."

"Do you help her?"

"Yeah…yeah I do. A little bit." I said with a smile. "Now can I ask you a question?"

"Sure!"

"Why are you talking to a scary-looking guy like me? Didn't your mother warn you about talking to strangers?"

"She did! But you're not scary, mister."

I blink.

"What?"

"I said, you're not scary. You look mean, but I bet you really aren't."

"Alaria!"

It's the panicked voice of an Asari woman. She practically races over towards us, and grabs her daughter by the hand. "Don't you dare scare me like that again!"

"It's alright, ma'am." I said. "Alaria here was just keeping an old man company while she waited for you."

At first, the woman stares at me suspiciously. Probably because of the scars, the bead, and the ponytailed mullet I've got on. I do look kinda intimidating. But then her expression softened somewhat.

"…Thank you, sir." She said. "My daughter can be quite the adventurer."

"Not a bad thing." I said with a smile. The Asari woman smiles thinly, and the little one smiles much brighter. I find a small smirk cracking the edge of my lips, and I return the gesture when she waves goodbye.

"You look like you're feeling better."

Sis is standing behind me now. I sigh.

"Come to kick my ass?"

"No. To thank you. Sparatus shut up for the rest of the meeting. It made things easier dealing with the other two." Sis said. She looked at me and smiled. "It's not much, considering that they know I'm working with Cerberus and can't officially endorse me, but they're giving me back SPECTRE status. So that's something, I guess."

"You were a SPECTRE, Sis?" I asked, dumbfounded. Sis laughed. It's a musical sound.

"Oh, man, you have _no idea_ what you missed, do you?" She asked with a teasing tone. "I'll let Councilor Anderson fill you in. He wants the details…and to meet you."

…

We re-enter the office to see Anderson talking to someone that makes me instinctively curl my fists in annoyance. I don't know this guy, but he's no good. I can just tell. He turns around and sees the two of us.

"Shepard?" He said. "What are you doing here?"

"I have a long list of people I don't want to see. You're at the top, Udina." Sis said coldly.

"The feeling is mutual." Udina said, frowning. "Your return is a bureaucratic nightmare for us, Shepard."

Real charmer, this Udina.

"I invited Shepard back for a meeting with the Council." Anderson said. "We just finished it a few minutes ago, as a matter of fact." Udina went white as a sheet.

"You what? Councilor, do the words 'political shitstorm' mean _anything_ to you?" He asked, aghast.

So he's a career politician, too. Even better.

"Relax, the meeting went fine." Sis said. "The Council reinstated my SPECTRE status, mostly because they're happy I'm sticking to the Terminus Systems."

"Hmm…I see how that could be a beneficial thing for both sides…" Udina said, scratching his chin. And then he saw me. He squinted as if trying to recognize me, and then his eyes widened.

Oh boy, here we go.

"Holy sweet mother of shit." He said. "Why is there a _war criminal_ running about?"

"Udina you _shut your mouth._ " Sis hissed. Anderson frowned as well.

"If I recall correctly, Jonathan here was never brought forth to a court martial. He has never been convicted of a crime. Technically speaking, Donnel, you're lucky that he doesn't slap you with accusations of slander."

"Slander? Please. As if that's stopped careers." Udina said. He looked at me and hissed. "I don't know what hole you were dug up out of, but rest assured you are _not_ welcome while we discuss matters."

"Who, exactly, is the leader of Humanity?" Anderson said, his pleasant tone starting to grate with irritation. "It certainly isn't you, Donnel. Why don't you go back to your office and think that over for a while?"

"I can't believe we're allowing free reign to a baby-killer…" Udina muttered under his breath as he started for the door.

That's it.

I grabbed him by the collar before anyone knew what was happening, and forcibly walked him over to the railing of the balcony. I then tossed him forward, so that he slammed hard against the railing. He barely had time to turn around before I had a forearm in his chest, pushing him so that he was practically about to fall over backwards to the Presidium below.

" _Anderson, call C-Sec!_ " The man wailed as I kept him pinned to the railing.

"Keep talking and he'll call you an ambulance." I snarled. "What other names you got for me, huh? What other things do you and your little shithead politicos call me?"

He is fearfully silent.

"No answer? Just gonna keep your little mouth shut and hope that doesn't push me over the fucking edge? Which is a very interesting thought, considering your current predicament.

"John…" Sis said, but it was more annoyed than frantic.

"Tell ya what. You tell your little weasel friends about this meeting. Tell them about my sister. But choose your words wisely. Because next time I might not pick a balcony with a railing." I roughly threw him back towards the door. "Get lost, creep."

He sprinted out the door.

…

"I can only imagine the talking I'm gonna get when he works up the nerve to leave his office." Anderson said. "But at the same time, it did buy me a few hours, at least. So that's a relief." He looked at me. "Not exactly the methods I would have used, though."

"You'd have talked to him?" I asked. Anderson shrugged.

"I would have just punched him. I've done it before."

Sis got bug-eyed.

" _That's_ how you unlocked the Normandy?"She practically squealed. "Oh, _please_ tell me that story, sir. _Please!_ "

"Maybe when you've cleared up this current mess with the Collectors." Anderson said with a smile. "The drinks will be on me, I promise." He turned to me. "So you're Jane's brother. Jonathan Mercer Shepard. Lieutenant in the Alliance shock troopers…as well as one of the lead agents for Operation Blood Moon." He looked sad. "Words can't describe how regretful I am for what you were put through."

"You didn't help organize it, sir." I said. "I don't hold it against you."

"Yes, but as the Human Conncilor this sort of thing is my responsibility by proxy." He said. "And seeing as how your commanding officers are either dead or denying involvement…" He glanced meaningfully at the projector that Sparatus had been at. "…I think you at least deserve to hear those words from someone."

"Thanks, sir. But it doesn't fix things."

"Of course not." Anderson said. "But it's better than pretending everything is fine." He said. He turned to Sis. "You two are in an interesting position. I'm really not at libery to say much more than what I've already discussed with you, Jane, considering your ties to Cerberus. But you… _both_ of you…will always have me at your side." He then smirked somewhat. "Even if you don't necessarily agree with who I get in touch with to do it."

That reference goes over my head, but Sis looks mortified.

"David…Sir, you _didn't."_

"I'm afraid my hand was forced." Anderson said, but there was an amused tone in his voice. "You get your persuasiveness from someone, you know."

 _Now_ it makes sense.

"Sir…you didn't…you didn't tell our _mother_?" I managed to sputter. Anderson chuckled.

"Only to expect a holocall from Jane in the near future. I figured Hannah deserved to hear that things were better than she thought. After all, wouldn't you want to know if your babies were alive and well?" He asked. He winked.

…

"Well, we're boned."

"By a screwdriver."

Sis and I were walking back from the Presidium to the Normandy. While most of the crew was checked into various hotels around the dock, we both decided to return to the Normandy itself. As we stood in the decontamination chamber before entering, Sis sighed.

"But I suppose it was only a matter of time before we had to deal with Mom." She groaned. "Oh, she's gonna _kill_ me."

"At least you were around." I said. "She's gonna, like, _super_ kill me." Sis snorted with laughter.

"True. But I'll tell her to go easy on you."

The door opened.

"I'm gonna go back to the office and take care of some planning for the next mission." Sis said. "I'll see you around." She smiled, and then walked off. That left me to find my own idea of fun.

"Why exactly are you down here again?"

"Because I know that someone else appreciates a good smoke or drink, Jack." I said, sitting on the same steps. Jack chuckled.

"Hah! True. No one else here appreciates that shit. I'm the Queen bitch of it all." She had one of those Cerberus datapads propped up on her bed. "You're a bit of a stogie sucker, though. I hate that shit."

"Don't knock it 'till you try it." I said, puffing on my cigar.

"Speaking of knocking…" Jack muttered. She set down her book. "I gotta ask. Usually people run by now. Your sister talks to me because she needs me to be loyal or some shit, and I get that. But why are you interested in all of these things."

She stares at me with daggar-like eyes.

"Are you eying me up?" She asked, finally. "Because if this is just about sex, then you should just fucking say so."

Well, that certainly escalated quickly.

I stare at Jack for a moment. She's standing now, hands on her hips and she's got one of her hips jutting out in a rather…tempting pose. She's covered in tattoos and all but I'll be damned if she isn't one of the prettiest women I've ever seen. I wonder if anyone has ever told her that. I wonder what it would be like to be with her, even for one night…

"Well? I'm waiting." Jack said, annoyance and a hint of confusion in her voice.

I smile slightly, and stand up. The feelings and intrigues melt away.

"What are smiling about? It's fucking creepy."

"Sorry." I said. "And sorry, but I'd rather wait. I'd rather know who you are and enjoy having someone to talk to. I wouldn't want to throw it away on a casual hookup."

"You don't need to 'know' someone to fuck them. You just need to know where to put it." Jack said, though there's hesitation in her voice. Clearly I didn't give her the answer she expected. I start walking up the stairs, and I turn to face her.

"You're a pretty lady, Jack. And it's fun to be around you, especially whenever you get on a roll about why you hate Cerberus."

Before the doors close behind me, I make sure that she hears my last words.

"…But my heart already belongs to someone else."

A/N: A little less dark this time around. It isn't always doom and gloom in this story, I promise.


	15. Sparring and Other Things

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

Two days later, we left the Citadel refreshed, resupplied, and ready for the next move. During the interim, we'd done a couple of menial but ultimately important things. Gardner got some better stock with which to make his food that still tasted like shit, and Sis went and bought some of that expensive Serrice Ice Brandy for Doctor Chakwas. It was clear that the two of them went pretty far back.

I heard them in the medical bay the night Sis had bought it, clearly drunk and reminiscing about life before. Before the Reapers. Before Sis' death. Before…everything, I guess.

They were still giggling from down the hall where I sat in one of the main atrium rooms of the Normandy. I smirked, despite myself. Anything that got the pressure off of Sis' shoulders was okay by me.

"Christ, they've been at it for a while." Zaeed muttered. I'd managed to drag him up from the cargo hold to see the rest of the ship, and he was currently sitting at the table with me, a book in his hand. It was _Casino Royale_. Authored by Sir Ian Fleming, though I'm pretty sure that even the other galactic races know who James Bond is. The first Bond flick that was released post-galactic contact, _The Asari Who Loved Me_ , was somehow a critical and commercial success despite blatantly ripping off the plot of one of 007's earlier adventures. But then again, Roger Moore sucked. I was more of a Timothy Dalton guy.

"Well, Sis needs to unwind every now and then." I said, taking a sip from my cup of coffee. I drank the stuff blacker than tar, and Sis always thought I was a weirdo for doing that. I always thought she was weird for wrecking her coffee by drowning it in cream and sugar. A _lot_ of sugar.

"No bloody kidding." Zaeed muttered. He was wearing reading glasses, and looked less like a mercenary and more like a really dangerous university professor. But then again, I doubt that anyone was going to tell him that. "Shepard's gonna burn herself out if she doesn't live it up a little bit." He looked up. "Ain't usually one to pry, but does she have…you know?" He trailed off, protecting my sister's dignity out of politeness. Or, possibly, because he knew I'd pull his fucking trachea out if he worded it poorly.

"Someone special?" I asked. "Sort of."

"Oh, Christ. The last thing that Shepard needs in the middle of all of this is goddamn _relationship_ issues." Zaeed said. He flipped the page with his index finger. "Who's the one she's fretting about?"

"Some Asari named Liara T'Soni." I said. At this, Zaeed perked up.

"T'Soni?"

I looked at him.

"You've heard of her?"

"Met her once. Although it was over a holocall."

At this, he had my full attention. Zaeed set down his book too, recognizing the seriousness of the conversation.

"…And?" I asked, somewhat impatiently.

"I'd been contracted out for some pissy smash-and-grab work, though she'd offered a shitload of credits if I did it quietly. Asari usually like things to be delicate. Always wielding a scalpel when they'd be better off with a goddamn hammer. Anyway…" He noticed my annoyed look and got back to the point. "She hired me for some work, and I did the job. Got paid, and then didn't see her again."

I was silent.

"Well, Doc, I'd keep going but I need a promise that you ain't gonna pull out my bloody lungs."

"…I promise I won't punch you."

"…Oddly specific, but fine. T'Soni was…a bit of an ice-cold woman. Radiated allure just like the rest of them but… _damn_ if she didn't come off as a little bit clinical, a little bit cold. I would never have expected Shepard to fall for someone like _her._ Shepard seems like the kind of person that enjoys walks on the beach and other frilly shit like that." Zaeed looked somewhat worried. "Do you think they're gonna have a good meeting?"

"Well, when she was in high school I had to save my sister from an irate ex." I said. "But then again, this ex wasn't an Asari that may or may not be a biotic commando."

"Well, shit." Zaeed said. "I doubt Cerberus has enough credits to reconstruct Shepard a second time if they get into a fight." He stared towards the medical bay, and as another chorus of laughter echoed out of the open door he smirked to himself. "That Chakwas…awfully dignified lady, if you ask me. Wonder if?...Nah, I doubt it."

I nearly choked on my coffee.

…

For a few days, we drifted aimlessly through space. Did some mining runs on a few abandoned planets. I wasn't sure why we needed this extra crap, but Sis apparently had some big plans to upgrade the Normandy. I hadn't heard anything about it, but my luck would change when I came down to the mess hall and saw Garrus and Sis in deep discussion.

"It's simple, Shepard. We need this amount of tungsten, as well as the proper amounts of power here and there…" He was diagraming something on a napkin. The way his hands flew over the sheet, it was clear that this man had been wasted as a C-Sec officer. He deserved a career in R&D, for god's sake.

"I get it, Garrus. But that's a lot of material. You sure that this Thanix Cannon will be worth it?"

Garrus just looked at her. He had a suspiciously smug look on his face.

"Want to rip the Collectors apart, Shepard?"

Sis' gleeful expression was equally as troubling.

…

I was walking down the hallway later that day, minding my own business, when I heard a voice.

"Doc. Fancy seeing you up here."

I saw Miranda leaning against the wall, her arms folded across her chest. The way she was looking at me, it was clear that she'd been waiting for me. I snorted.

"I tend to walk, Lawson. What's the deal?"

"Got a minute?" She asked. "It won't take long." She started walking away, as if already expecting me to follow her.

…She's not wrong. I try to keep my eyes up as I follow her to her office.

…

She took a seat behind her desk, and gestured for me to sit down at one of the desks. I kick my feet up on the ottoman, and ignore her slightly off-put expression.

"So, where's Kelly?" I asked.

"Yeoman Chambers couldn't make it." Miranda said. "She's busy with Mr. Vakarian right now."

"Busy?" I asked, giving her a bit of a stunned look. She frowned.

"Not _remotely_ what I meant." She said. "Mr. Vakarian suffers from insomnia, and he went to Yeoman Chambers to talk about it. She believes that it might be brought on by the trauma of his injury. But that's all that I'm at liberty to discuss for you." She started typing something into her terminal. "I wanted to discuss with you your actions on Korlus."

"…And?" I asked. "I shot a bitch that threatened to gas us to death. What more is there to say?"

"Well, I might agree with you normally, and I agree with you that Jedore needed to go. It's just…" Miranda fixed me with a glare. "That was…somewhat disproportionate."

"You think so?" I asked somewhat snidely. "What would you have done?"

"I wouldn't have kept shooting after I knew she was dead." Miranda said. "It wastes bullets and it can be dangerous."

"Spare me the lectures." I said. "You're not a psychologist."

"No. I'm not." Miranda admitted.

"Then why does that bother you so much? What I did?"

"I'm just taking down reports. It's something that I need to do as the XO of this ship."

I didn't have time for this.

"Okay, I'm gonna make it simple for you. I'm a grouch and an utter bastard. I still don't know why Sis is keeping me around. I am probably a liability, and yet I'm still here. I wouldn't be surprised if I get into a fight and have to get disciplined here." I said. "But that bitch threatened us with gas. She threatened to kill _my sister_ with gas, by extension. Lemme ask you something, _Miss_ Lawson. You got siblings?"

The look on her face is completely the opposite of what I expected. She goes from ice-cold annoyance to _pained_ in mere moments. She breaks eye contact and looks away.

"Yes."

Great. Now I feel like an asshole. They're probably dead and I stepped on their graves. I try to soften my voice a bit, realizing that I've overstepped my bounds.

"Then…then you know why I did it. If you had-have siblings, then you know that we do anything for each other. We go above and beyond for one another. And if that means I get some blood on my hands for the sake of my sister's safety, then I can sleep like a baby that night."

"You'd do anything for her?" Miranda asked. There's a trace of something in her voice. Is it respect? I don't know.

"I'd destroy myself for my family." I said firmly, getting up and walking away.

I'm not exaggerating. After all, I'm still picking up the pieces from the last time I did.

…

I was sitting in the main mess hall when I felt a ping in my iDroid. I know that Sis ordered an omnitool for me, but the damned thing hadn't arrived yet so we'd have to pick it up the next time that we were on the Citadel. I pressed a button, and watched as the fuzzy holographic display appeared in front of me. I scrolled through the messages, deleting any junk mail that had come my way…there was a lot. And then I saw a message from Mordin requesting that all specialists or agents that were doing fieldwork were going to have to come to his clinic for a checkup. I rolled my eyes. Wonderful.

He was in the midst of administering a shot to Kasumi and Jack as I walked in the doorway.

"Ah, good to see you Doc!" Mordin said, looking up. "Was just finishing Specialist Goto, moving on to Subject Zero now."

"If you stick me with that thing and I feel something I swear I will stick it in your fucking eye." Jack growled as Mordin prepared another syringe. I looked at Kasumi who was rubbing her arm.

"What's this for?"

"A safety measure." Kasumi said. "The Collectors use Seeker swarms as a way to immobilize their victims. One sting and you're out. Doctor Solus here has been synthesizing an antidote to the whole thing. Get this in your system and it'll only be like…it'll be like a mosquito bite, nothing more."

"Mosquitos can carry West Nile Virus, dumbass." I said, enjoying the worried look on Kasumi's face.

"Agreed. Attempt at humor somewhat mitigated by Doc's truth." Mordin said. He applied the needle to Jack. She winced, but didn't say anything. I watched as the golden fluid in the needle was depressed into her bicep, and I felt a little bit woozy. I hate needles. "Alright, Doc. Your turn."

I rolled my eyes, and walked towards the table. I extended my arm, only for Mordin to shake his head.

"Unfortunately, must require that you remove upper clothing. Consider brief physical."

"Kasumi didn't have to! And you didn't make Jack do this." I muttered, well aware of how petulant I sounded. Jack laughed.

"I'm already pretty much naked up here, dumbass. He didn't need to ask, it would have been redundant."

I rolled my eyes, and took my shirt off.

I hear one of those awkward silences, the kind where you know everyone is staring. As soon as my shirt is off and not over my face, I realize that they're all staring at me.

Or, more specifically, the multitude of tattoos and scars covering my upper torso.

Jack lets out a low whistle.

"Damn, son. You're giving me a run for my money in terms of who's most-inked."

"Hmm. Interesting." Mordin said, staring at some of the tattoos on my arm. "Rather serpentine pattern on your shoulder running down your left arm. Multitude across upper torso."

"I'm impressed, John." Kasumi said. "I like the one on your right arm. Looks like a big cat. Much meaner than your human house cats, though, I imagine."

"That one's pretty simple, though." Jack said, pointing to one right above my heart. "Just one word, Doc? I can barely read it, does it say B-"

"What am I, a _fucking curio?_ " I snarl, causing all of them, even Jack, to recoil a bit. "Just give me the goddamn shot, and I'm going away." I growl.

Wordlessly, Mordin administers the vaccine. I feel it coursing through my veins, much like the way my pain is. I walk away, leaving them all behind in confused silence. They don't know. And I'm not about to tell them.

…

I make my way down to the cargo hold, where they've set up that sparring ring a few days ago. There's a couple of soldiers in the middle of the ring, doing their best to spar. They were certainly trying, but it was kind of like watching two uncoordinated siblings barely out of their teens wrestling.

"Spirits, that's awful!" I watch as Garrus puts his hands on the top rope, pushing down and lifting the rest of his body over the edge and into the ring. "Are you trying to give him a hug, soldier?"

"No sir." The Cerberus agent grunts. He seems a little miffed that a Turian is ordering him about, but he's biting his tongue. Probably because Miranda is also down here paying attention as well. It was one of the requirements that the agents aboard the Normandy get some exercise, and considering the fact that we were most likely preparing for a battle for galactic civilization, it wasn't a bad idea to teach them some martial arts.

"Good. You need to toss him over your hip, and then immediately cinch him into a headlock. From there you can choke him out or break his neck. Watch." Garrus gestured for the other soldier to throw a punch at him. The brave man obliged, and Garrus blocked the punch and smoothly pulled off a judo hip toss that might've won a gold medal back home on Earth. The agent managed to slap out as he hit the ground, but it was clear that Garrus had put a little extra zip on that toss. Almost immediately, Garrus had him in a headlock. "See? He's my victim right now. I can do whatever I want." The Cerberus agent frantically tapped out, and Garrus graciously released the hold.

I took off my duster, revealing the white tank top I'd chosen to wear that day, and walked over towards the ring. Garrus saw me and his mandibles flared out in what had to be a big grin.

"Doc! Fancy seeing you down here. Want to go one on one with the ol' Turian?"

"I'm thinking about it." I said. "But I wouldn't want to kill you."

"Ooo, awfully tough talk." Garrus said. The other Cerberus agents were all smirking, and even Miranda seemed somewhat amused. "I wouldn't have expected an old, decrepit has-been to be mocking someone, but I guess it's a first time for everything, right?"

I don't let him get to me. After all, he's one to talk: his face looks like it was stitched together by a hallucinating cross-stitcher. I just start stretching out a little bit, and make sure to get a good stretch to the knee. I don't want to tweak that after all. Maybe some nice weights and some cardio work, and I'll call it a day.

"I'll spin you like one of your toy guns, Doc."

Not listening. Just gonna do some heavy lifting and maybe work the heavy bag a little bit.

"Typical. I thought you were Shepard's brother, not her _sister!_ "

That's it. Dead Turian.

…

I hop into the ring, and by now a small crowd of off-duty agents (as well as Kasumi with a video camera) have gathered around the ring. I take note of how Garrus has his hands up, in a pretty impressive boxer's stance, and take note of anywhere soft to hit.

There isn't any. He is a Turian after all. Damn it, this is not going to feel good.

"Simple rules." Garrus said. "No eye-gouging, poking, biting or anything dirty. Like one of your humans' cage matches. And the winner buys the loser a beer."

"Guinness."

"What?" Garrus asked, as he gets ready to move in. I just shrug and repeat myself.

"Guinness is my favorite."

He's quicker than I thought, for sure. He throws a jab, without much power but enough to clip me in the shoulder when I side-step him. It stings, as one would expect from a Turian's fist. I redirect another one of his punches, and then another. But I don't throw any strikes of my own. Garrus throws another punch, which I duck with some degree of ease.

"Aren't you going to fight back?" He taunts.

Just waiting…waaaaiting.

He makes his mistake. He throws a jab, but in doing so overextends too far. I sidestep his punch, stepping inside and smacking my shoulder into his gut. As he doubles over, I reach behind the inside of his right thigh with one hand and cup the back of his head with my left. Before he can react, I've torqued my hips and powerslam him onto the mat. It's a loud noise, and I throw one punch to his cheek before I feel him tap out.

"Okay…okay, you got me." Garrus muttered. "That snap throw of yours got me. Won't happen next time." He said, woozily getting up to his feet. I help him, and we make our way over to the corner of the ring.

"Not bad, Vakarian."

"Neither are you, Shepard." He said. "Spirits, it's strange calling someone else that. Speaking of, where is-?"

The sounds of punches thrown into a heavy bag cuts him off. It's coming from the other end of the room. So we look in that direction and see my sister over there, working over one of the heavy bags.

She's wearing one of those sports bra tops, the kind that cage fighters might wear, as well as workout shorts that have some ancient brand emblazoned on the side. She's wearing mixed martial arts-style boxing gloves, the kinds that leave the fingers open, and she isn't wearing any shoes. Her hair is tied up in a tight bun.

And she is beating the shit out of that heavy bag.

She smacks it high and low, throwing punches that could fell a horse. The indents that she leaves with each strike don't seem to go away, and instead seem to be getting worse with time. She throws another punch, and I swear to god that the bag is leaking now.

Then come the roundhouse head kicks.

 _THWOCK._

That could kill a man.

 _THWOCK. THWOCK._

Okay, that's impressive core work to be able to throw three high head kicks in such quick succession but-

 _THWOCK THWOCK THWOCK THWOCK THWOCK_ _ **THWOCK THWOCK THWOCK**_ _ **THWOCK**_

…Fuck.

She finishes with a kick so hard I swear to god that it lights on fucking fire…and the impact rips the heavy bag open. Straight up pouring sand out of the side. She puts her hands on her knees, expecting to be exhausted I imagine…except she stands right back upright. She's red-faced, sure, and breathing a little bit heavy, but she isn't falling over herself.

Sis was always the more "technical" of the two of us when it came to sparring. I just liked punching and throwing things. She was a huge sucker for learning as many styles as she could just because she liked being completely in control. And as I gaze upon her now, I see that the sister I know has changed. She was always in good shape…but now she looks absolutely ripped. She looks like she could rip a phone book in half with one hand, or kick in a padlocked door and not even jar her foot.

I glance over at Miranda, who was watching with a sense of satisfied awe…and I wonder just how much "better" Cerberus made my sister.

It's impressive as hell.

But it's also frightening.

…

Some time later, I find myself eating in the mess hall. Again. I eat a lot these days. I guess I'm catching up for lost time, when I'd go hungry for a few days at a time so that I could afford whatever shitty rent I had to pay so that my "landlord" wouldn't have the cops come inspect me for squatting. I'm so hungry that even shitty ramen noodles sound delicious. This is my fifth cup tonight, and I'm just getting started.

Then, to my left, EDI pops up on one of the kiosks.

" _Specialist Shepard, you are wanted immediately in the briefing room._ "

Groaning that I have been interrupted from another meal, I put my duster back on and jog up towards the elevator.

I see that whatever is going on is big. Literally everyone on the team is here. Zaeed offers me a friendly yet wordless head nod as I arrive to the briefing room. Garrus is quickly putting together his sniper rifle. Kasumi is checking her submachine guns. I take a look at them and gape. Those are…those are Kassa Locusts. They don't even _make_ those anymore, especially not after the assassination…

…Wait, Kasumi is a thief. No. No, she _didn't…_

"Like my peacekeepers?" She asks somewhat sweetly. I'm about to respond, but then Sis comes barreling in.

"We got them!" She said with urgency in her voice. "I just got off the line with the Illusive Man. There's a human colony that just went dark mere minutes ago, and the manner in which it's going dark is identical to the attacks in the past. We're only a short bit of FTL travel away, too…so we're in perfect position to catch the Collectors in the act." She gets deadly serious. "This is the last chance to get your vaccine from Mordin. If you haven't, _do so._ I won't have anyone taken from us because they were too stubborn to get a shot."

She picks up her Vindicator, and checks the sights.

"This is an all-hands mission, people. We need to move fast and be ready for anything. Thus, we're splitting into teams. I'm in command of Blue Team: With me are Garrus and Jacob. Mordin is in charge of Yellow Team: He'll take Kasumi and Jack. That leaves Miranda in charge of Red Team: She'll be in command of Zaeed, Grunt, and John." She takes a deep breath. "This is it, everyone. We need to do this right. I want to find out more about the Collectors. Any questions?"

"Yeah, just one." I say, holstering my Carnifex pistols as I stare at her. "What's the name of the colony?"

Sis takes a deep breath and stares me in the eye.

"Horizon."

A/N: And here…we…go.


	16. No Line on the Horizon

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

It was too goddamn quiet.

I'd been on farming colonies like this in the past, mostly as shore leave for us Alliance grunts when we weren't doing anything important. I was used to the slower pace of things, especially in comparison to the hustle and bustle of more "urban" colonies. The boys usually took the opportunity to go hit up whatever shitty bars and saloons they could find, and then hit on every pretty girl or guy they could find. Considering the high regulations of Alliance life, things could get…heavy. I never took part in it myself, so my nights were usually quite quiet.

And yet here we were on Horizon, and it was too goddamn quiet.

"Eyes up." Sis said as the team fanned out. "Head on a swivel. And see if there are any survivors."

I think we'd be lucky to find a single person in this place. Sure, we'd been tipped off a few minutes after Horizon went dark, but even then it took about ten minutes to get out of FTL travel and into Horizon's orbit. And then another five minutes for the Kodiak shuttle to get us to the ground. Twenty minutes, maybe a few more. By the time we were firmly established, it might have been at least a half hour since The Illusive Man's scanners notified him that this was the opening we were looking for.

That might be too late.

"Remember vaccinations. Should ward off Seeker bites, but would not recommend exposure to multiple bites." Mordin said, turning off the safety of his pistol.

"And you're sure that these are up-to-snuff?" Zaeed asked. "They'll work, right?" If I didn't know any better, I'd say that there was a trace of panic in his voice. Mordin tapped his chin in thought.

"Most likely. Purely theoretical at this point. First contact with Seekers will provide first field test of serum…should be exciting."

"Well, _that's_ reassuring." Jacob muttered. He'd picked a big shotgun out of the armory.

"No amount of puny insects can stop a pure Krogan." Grunt growled, taking point.

"Pride goeth…" Kasumi muttered.

"Okay, here's the plan." Sis said, taking a look around. "We're gonna split this into three parts. Yellow team, you're going to investigate the colony defenses. Their AA guns and the like. I want to know if the colonists managed to get anything off against that dreadnought." She pointed to the Collector ship that was sticking out of the ground like a massive railroad spike, only more alien and…organic-looking. "Blue Team and I will investigate the colonist living quarters on the upper levels of the facilities. There might be some people alive that went to hiding at the first sight of the seekers. Miranda?"

"Yes, Commander?" The Cerberus agent asked.

"Take Red Team right up the middle. Through the parks, the fields…the staging grounds. You're on point."

"That's a daunting op." I said. Sis looked at me, and I could see a devilish glint in her eyes.

"That's why I stuck the most muscle on that team." She said. "Good luck everyone. Keep radios on at all times. From hereon out, stick to team color names for identification. Got it? Move!"

…

We all broke into our various teams. Mordin and Yellow team disappeared off to the left, towards the massive AA guns in the fringes of the colony. I knew their search was going to be fruitless: whatever slugs those AA guns were capable of were completely useless against a ship of that size. But maybe they'd find some survivors. The sounds of footsteps clacking up metal signaled Sis and Blue Team travelling up the catwalks of the living space of the colony, with civilian recovery their primary goal. That left us to take the heat.

Precisely how I liked it.

"Move forward, Red." Miranda said. The four of us slowly advanced through the fields, in a diamond formation. Grunt was the brave bastard at the front, while Miranda led from the rear. Zaeed and I took the sides.

"I don't like this, Doc." Zaeed said as we moved through another field with no signs of life. "Either they're already done with whatever it was that they wanted to do, or we're about to walk into the mother of all goddamn ambushes."

"We have the firepower." Miranda said. "Now have confidence, Mr. Massani."

"You aren't paying me enough for blind confidence, Lawson."

"We're paying you an _exorbitant_ amount, Mr. Massani, so I recommend you keep that in mi-"

"I AM KROGAN!"

Grunt suddenly rushed forward at a frightening speed, jarring Zaeed and Miranda from their pissy little argument. Before we could react, he'd reached his enemy and barreled into the two of them, knocking them both to the ground. The first one he just killed by stepping on its head really hard. The second one he trapped under his boot, pinning it by the spine…before shotgunning it in the back of the head. There was blood spatter on his face as he turned around with a wolfish grin.

"They aren't so tough."

We took the moment to analyze whatever the hell it was that Grunt had just killed. Collectors…looked like walking bugs. Really big bugs. I _hated_ bugs. That was just going to make killing them a lot easier. They were bipedal, that was for sure, and they had somewhat pronounced shoulders. They looked oddly familiar, even though it was hard to determine why. But those eyes…even in death, their eyes were a near-glowing yellow.

" _Red Team, this is Blue One. Heard gunfire. Status?_ "

Miranda activated her TeamCom.

"We ran into Collectors, Blue One. Grunt…dispatched of them. But I imagine they're a scouting party. They'll know we're here soon enough."

" _…Understood. Everyone else, weapons free. You see something odd, shoot it!_ "

Fine orders by my book, Sis.

…

In another field we ran into another group of Collectors. They were all the same, though some of them looked a little stockier than others. This time we didn't have the element of surprise. I only barely managed to get behind cover as one of them trained their beam rifle at me.

"Shit!" I growled. I'd landed hard on my shoulder. That wasn't going to feel good tomorrow. Provided I made it _to_ tomorrow. But either way, I needed to keep a mindful eye that I don't kill myself and make the job easier for the Collectors.

Zaeed fires off a burst from his assault rifle, providing suppressing fire while I get back to my feet.

"Goddamn, they're ugly!" He growls, feeding another heat sink into the rifle. I fire off a pair of rounds to give him cover, one of which strikes a Collector in the chest. The creature staggers backwards, but does not go down. I frown. After this mission, I'm going to need some better stopping power: I can't afford to waste ammo just by double-tapping everything I face.

There's an explosion in the distance, and it looks like a mini nuke went off.

" _This is Blue One, what the hell was that, Yellow?_ "

" _…Apologies, Blue One._ " Mordin's voice came in crisply over the TeamCom. " _Have encountered Collector resistance. Nothing substantial, but Jack was…eager to eliminate hostiles._ "

" _Tell her to be careful. There might be civilians hiding over there!_ " Sis said. " _This is Blue Team; no sign of surviving colonists so fa-wait. You! Stay hidden in this room and lock the doors. Do NOT go outside!_ " There's a pause. " _Belay that. We found a family of farmers in one of the apartment modules. We're ordering them to lock the door and ride it all out. Red Team, report?_ "

"Some scattered resistance so far, Blue One." Miranda said. "Having three heavies makes life easy on me." There was a trace of amusement in her voice. That was rare.

"Does that mean we get paid extra?" Zaeed barked, stepping out of cover and finishing off a downed Collector.

"Quiet, Mr. Massani." Miranda said.

" _Good. Keep moving forward. You should be in one of the major staging grounds just ahead._ "

…

We reach the main staging ground after a few more moments of walking. There are catwalks to our right, high above the battlefield. There's a couple of railing walkways to our left, like they come from the AA emplacements. And there are some cargo tanks and canisters scattered throughout the field in front of us.

There's also a _shitload_ of Collectors, and they all just spotted us.

"Finally, a good fight." Grunt growls, pumping his shotgun in readiness.

One of the Collectors in the back looks directly at us. It stares at me with those buggy eyes of its, and then it does something…strange.

It's eyes start glowing bright yellow, and the body starts to glow in a similar manner. It looks souped up in comparison to before. But if that wasn't a dead giveaway…

" _ **ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL.**_ "

Whatever the hell that meant, _that guy_ had to die.

"Take cover!" Miranda shouted as a hail of gunfire began to pepper our position. The Collectors were all out in the open, content to take potshots at the four of us. Zaeed tried blindfiring from his position, but gave up when a round nearly split his hand open. Miranda reached for her TeamCom. " _Commander!_ " She shouted. "We're completely pinned down! We need some flanking support, NOW!"

" _Understood, Miranda._ " Sis said. There was a pause, and then I heard the most beautiful four words. " _Garrus! Thin the herd._ "

For a few moments, there was no response. One of the Collectors took aim towards my position with a really, really big rifle. Its head then exploded into a chunky mist of…whatever it was that these things were made of. I glanced up towards the catwalks to the right, and saw that Garrus was wordlessly picking Collectors off one by one. This must have been what he meant when he'd said I hadn't seen his best yet. It was quite impressive.

Finally, the stupid bugs realized that there was something else firing on them. They all took cover, and started to fire on Garrus' position. Of course, that just left us an opening of our own. Grunt in particular was positively giddy, bellowing with glee as he dispatched Collectors left and right with that massive Claymore shotgun of his. Zaeed chuckled a little bit.

"The kid picks up goddamn quick, don't he Doc?"

I wasn't sure what was more concerning: the fact that Zaeed was acting like a proud parent towards this Krogan or the fact that he was correct. I decided to put it off. Two Collector drones came charging towards us from the left flank. I put one slug in one of the creatures' knees, and a second slug right where I imagined Collectors were rather…sensitive.

" _ **WE ARE YOUR GENETIC FUTURE.**_ "

Ah, shit. Forgot about that guy.

Super-Collector opened fire on the left, pinning me down under cover. I tried to raise a gun up in feeble blindfire, but it went about as well as you'd expect. This guy was a lot tougher than I'd thought. I glanced over to my left, and see Miranda was also equally frustrated by this thing.

"Got any bright ideas?" I ask.

"No! Why does everything think that I have an answer?" Miranda hissed. I shrugged.

"You usually act like you do! Just figured I'd check."

The leer she gives me would be hilarious if we weren't currently about to get shot a million times. But then I see the lightbulb go off over her head.

"Doc, you a good shot?"

"…Yeah?"

"How good? Could you hit that thing in the eye?"

I can't resist.

"Which eye?"

She rolls hers.

" _Fine._ Just…when you see the opportunity just empty the damn gun."

She pops out of cover, and there is a humming noise as she flares up her biotics. Super-Collector is surrounded by a dark aura, and is lifted off the ground while feebly flailing its hands and legs about. It's totally helpless. I glance at Miranda and see the strain her eyes, and the pain in her face. She's not going to be able to hold this for long. Good thing I don't need that long.

I pop out of cover, and empty the gun. One shot after another strikes the Collector in its left-center eye, again and again until there's a hole the size of a baseball through the creature's head. It goes limp, and then to our shock it seems to disintegrate into ash. Miranda lets out a deep breath and releases the biotic field. She and I look at each other.

"Well, that was relatively eas-"

" _ **ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL.**_ "

"Oh, _come on!_ "

This time Super-Collector managed to get a good flanking position on us from the right. There's not a chance that the two of us are going to be able to pull the same trick twice. Miranda seems equally frustrated by the fact that Zaeed and Grunt are currently occupied by a cadre of Collectors to our left. They seem to be having a lot more fun than we are. Jackasses.

All of a sudden, the gunfire from the right stops. I dare to look up, and I am treated to quite the sight.

Sis and Blue Team have clearly finished their sweep of the place looking for survivors, as Jacob is now next to Garrus up on the catwalks and giving the Turian spotting advice. It doesn't seem like Garrus really _needs_ a spotter, but he clearly appreciates the gesture. That leaves Sis. Who has leapt from the catwalks, landed on the ground, and is engaging Super-Collector in hand-to-hand combat. That cannot be healthy.

For the Super-Collector.

Sis ducks under a wild haymaker from the creature, and with a thrust kick she pushes the creature back and creates some space. She then takes a running start, and, as God is my witness, she jumps up and catches the Super-Collector right in the face with a flying Muay Thai knee strike that would kill a man if she'd been facing a human. Instead, it just knocks the creature to the ground, where it writhes in pain. It is facedown like a punchdrunk boxer.

But Sis isn't done. She wraps her arms around the waist of the Collector, and gives out a roar of strength as she deadlifts the creature off the ground. The Super-Collector gives a look of shock, and claws desperately at the air as if it thinks there is something to grab to protect it from what's coming. Well, I'm not about to let Sis get all the fun. I don't know why I think this is a good idea, only that Sis might need a little extra help.

I hop out of cover, and run as fast as I can towards Sis and the Collector that she's currently got waist-locked in a deadlift German suplex. She's almost got the damn thing past the point of no return.

No reason I can't give her a little extra boost.

I reach Sis and her poor victim, and with a roar throw my fist up. I catch the Super-Collector with the greatest uppercut of my life. Sis was already gonna slam the bastard, but this gives it a little bit extra mustard. Sis gives a roar as she uses the momentum I've helped her create to bring the Collector over her head and towards the ground.

" _ **RUDIMENTARY CREATURES OF BLOOD AND FLE-**_ "

Whatever bullshit Super-Collector was about to spout gets cut off midsentence. I imagine it's hard to pontificate when you get your neck broken on contact. Sis pops back up to her feet, and raises an eyebrow.

"That cannot have felt good on your hand." She said. I shrug.

"You're the idiot who wanted to suplex a Collector, Sis."

She just pouts.

…

We take a moment to regroup. Yellow Team still hasn't been accounted for. Sis frowns and turns on the TeamCom.

"Mordin, what's the holdup?"

 _"Facing stiff resistance nearby AA guns."_ The Salarian replies over the radio. " _Collectors clearly don't want guns reactivated._ _However, matters…complicated._ "

"Define complicated." Sis asked.

" _Collectors destroyed targeting computers for AA guns. Likely do not want their ship fired on. Don't have technical expertise to repair the damage. Would require a hefty amount of calibrations._ "

There's a pause, and then I hear a voice.

"…Did someone say calibrations?"

"Garrus, you've got issues." Sis said. "But this time they're not a worry whatsoever. You head over to the AA guns, and when you're their help turn on the security system."

 _"Commander Shepard, if you would permit me to piggyback on Mr. Vakarian's TeamCom, I can help guide him into making the proper repairs._ "

"Excellent thought, EDI." Sis said.

" _However, Commander, while Mr. Vakarian and I can make the repairs to the guns, the primary power source for the security system is in the courtyard you're currently located in. When you throw the switch, the Collectors…will most likely converge on your position._ "

"Understood." Sis said. She turned to the rest of the team. "Everyone! Start digging in. Find cover, find ammo, find anything to bring down an invading counterattack." She turns to face me. "Bro. Go with Garrus."

"You sure you don't want me here?" I asked. Sis nodded.

"Garrus is good with long-range stuff, but if the fighting gets close quarters, I think they need someone like you."

I nod, even though I don't like getting separated again. Especially in the wake of an incoming attack. But Sis is my commanding officer here. And if nothing else, I suppose there might be some humor derived in teasing Garrus for being a shitty hand-to-hand fighter.

…

We make our way through the motor pool towards the AA guns and the security base. Judging by the fires and ruined, twisted hunks of metal that might have once been cars and ships, I imagine this is where Jack had her little "blow-up."

"Spirits, this looks ugly." Garrus said, as the two of us make our way through the ruined motorcade. "…I have a comment to make, a joke I suppose, but I don't know how well it will go over."

I shrug.

"I don't get offended easily." I said. Garrus chuckles nervously, and I notice that he's switched off his TeamCom just in case.

"Well, um…I think you humans have an expression for something like this, but…Ah, screw it I guess I'll say it." He takes a deep breath. "Do you wonder if Jack is…having that time of the month?"

I stare at him. I think my brain just broke from the shock of hearing Garrus make a joke, and _that_ joke of all jokes. I start cracking up, biting my lower lip so hard I think I'm drawing blood. Garrus looks hesitantly pleased.

"Oh, good. I was afraid that that joke would not go over well. Do you think the others will find it as funny as you do?"

"NO!" I howl, laughing harder. "If you tell _Jack_ that, there won't be enough of you left to fit in a matchbox."

Garrus is a Turian, and yet I could have sworn that he went pale at the thought.

…

We reach the AA control tower just as an explosion rocks the side of the tower, and a chunk of the windows explode in fire and biotic energy. A squad of Collectors have been tossed into the void and fall to the ground below. I see that Mordin and Kasumi are on the first floor, haggling over a terminal. Garrus and I go inside, and Kasumi looks at us.

"Hey guys! Glad the geek squad is here."

"I am not a geek." Garrus said indignantly.

"Whooooosh…" Kasumi mutters to herself.

"Where's Jack?" I ask. Mordin doesn't look up from the terminal.

"Currently upstairs facing off against Collectors. Took one look at this terminal and declared no interest in helping, though with characteristically coarse language. Is currently dealing with enemies as we speak."

There's an explosion above us.

"So, uh…do you need me to help out?" I ask flatly.

"You could if you wanted." Kasumi said. "But I don't mind taking some rest in order to let Jackie up there have a little bit of fun."

I'm about to argue, when I realize that the thief makes a very good point. So I take a seat on one of the chairs next to Kasumi, and we sit and listen for the next shockwave above us. Mordin is busy preparing the terminal for Garrus to take a look at, and Garrus is currently warming up his omnitool.

Another explosion from the floor above rocks the very foundation of the tower.

BOOM.

" _I WILL DESTROY YOU!_ "

"Ah. Seems to be enjoying herself." Mordin said, a smile curling on his lip. Garrus chuckled.

"Alright, Doctor Solus. Let me work my magic here." He starts typing away at the terminal. "EDI, I'm in the system. Start walking me through the paces."

" _Affirmative. Begin by-"_

Garrus pressed a button on his visor, switching the audio so that he was the sole recipient. He looked at the three of us.

"Can you give me some time? This might take a few minutes."

 _"Garrus?_ " Sis' voice rings out through TeamCom. " _What's the status on those AA guns? We could really use the distraction! There's a lot of them here!"_

"Hold your horses, Shepard. At least, that's how I think the human expression goes." He muttered to himself, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he kept tweaking and typing away at the terminal. "Rebooted the general power supply, now just need to reroute it back into the guns' output…they're still using tungsten? Kinetic bombardment? No _wonder_ the Collectors just shrugged it off. Gonna have to take that into consideration when we build the Thanix…"

An explosion in the distance. Streams of laser light and energy are arching through the sky. It sounds like hell over there.

" _GARRUS!_ " Sis barks.

"Ok, ok! Keep your shirt on, I'm almost done…got it!" Garrus said, pressing the last buttons on the terminal keypad. "EDI, let's reroute the guns from facing out into the blue yonder…and right at that ugly-ass Collector dreadnought."

" _Agreed, Mr. Vakarian._ "

There is a deep rumbling as we hear the AA guns fire up, and then a round of explosions. The guns begin to pepper the side of the Collector dreadnought. It doesn't seem like they're doing much damage at first, but any ship that's under a sustained amount of fire like this is going to crack eventually. There is a deep-seated relief in me when I hear the roar of engines firing, and the dreadnought slowly begins to ascend into the starry sky. It takes a couple of nasty potshots from the AA guns, which keep firing long after it's begun climbing. We watch it go with some wistfulness, and there is a feeling of disappointment. We might have saved a few colonists here and there…but I would bet a lot that the rest of them are up there on it.

Why is it that every time we succeed at something in the short term, it feels like we hamstring ourselves in the long term?

I sense a presence next to me, and I turn to see that Jack has finished doing…whatever it was that she was doing to those Collectors upstairs, and is now standing next to me. She's still radiating some powerful biotic flare. She looks at me and flashes a devilish grin.

"Shame that they left so soon. I was starting to have _fun_."

"Alright team, gather around." Mordin said. He pressed a few buttons on his omnitool, and scanned the contents of the display thoroughly. He smiled. "Excellent. Scanning indicates no hands lost in battle. All vitals are regular, and antidote seems to have worked. Fascinating."

"So Sis and the others are alright?" I asked. Mordin nodded.

"Don't hear any indication otherwise. Took precautions by adding a warning to omnitool if anyone stung by Seekers. Would be logical conclusion to assume their capture if that reading spiked."

I blinked once.

"Mordin, were you… _spying_ on all of us?"

"Spying such an inelegant word. Personal preference of 'tracking.'"

"Doesn't sound much fucking better." Jack muttered.

"Let's debate the ethics of Mordin's STG background later." Garrus said. "While the others might be alive, there's clearly something going on to keep Shepard from radioing in. I don't know about you, but I think I want to find out just what in the hell is going on."

He starts to jog off in the direction of the staging ground where we'd left Sis and the others, and I am right on his heels.

…

"…that's all you have to say? That's all you-you were _gone_ , Commander. For _two years._ And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Ash, that's not fair I was-"

" _How_? How is that not fair?"

Ah, shit. This can't be good.

Somehow the rest of Yellow Team has rejoined the two of us, after making sure that the last of the AA guns were online. The rest of the team is in a semi-circle in the center of the staging ground, but from their body language it's clear that they're all feeling severely awkward about something. None of them are speaking. Garrus looks at the center of the circle, and lets out a groan.

"Oh no…Not her. Not now."

"Who?" I asked. Garrus gives me a quick and guilty expression.

"It's…complicated, Doc. Just…just let your sister and I handle it. We know her after all."

He jogs off ahead of me, leaving me in the dark to pick up the pieces.

I catch a glimpse of the argument now. There's Sis, facing in my general direction but utterly unaware of my presence. She's clearly trying to calm down the woman in front of her, but judging by the way that the other woman is getting more animated it's clear that whatever Sis is trying isn't working.

They're practically shouting now. The others all look incredibly out of place, as if they're watching parents fight. Garrus has stepped in, but one outburst from the other woman and he's practically recoiling. He isn't cowed, it's clear that he's holding himself back from screaming at her, too. Miranda looks like she's about to tell Sis to call this all off and leave, but Sis won't hear it. She's still trying to make things right. She's still trying…dammit, she's still trying. She won't compromise herself or her principles to get this woman to see things her way, and she still believes in the better angels of our nature.

I forgot my principles ages ago. I have no scruples.

And right now this bitch is making my sister feel pain. And I don't like that.

…

I walk up right behind the woman in white and maroon armor, and loudly clear my throat to get her attention, as well as everyone else's. I see Sis' eyes widen in shock, and then the woman in front of her whirls around to face me. It's a good thing that I've perfectly a stone-cold face, because I recognize the woman immediately.

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams."

She narrows her eyes suspiciously.

"And who are you supposed to be? One of Cerberus' men in black?"

I sneer.

"Hardly. I'm just a guy."

"Doc, please…"

It's Sis. She's pleading with me, but she doesn't use my name. Why doesn't she use my name? I shake it off as Williams returns my sneer.

"So you're with the Commander?"

"You could say that."

"Oh, can I? Good. Because she's giving me a hell of a story: disappears and is dead for two years, and then comes back wearing Cerberus colors and flying a Cerberus ship…only to claim to me that she doesn't work for Cerberus. Does that fly with you?" She challenges me.

I shrug.

"Yeah."

"Great, so they've got you toing the company line, too." She turns back towards Sis. "What did they do to you, Shepard? I thought I could trust you. I…"

"Ash, you're letting your anger towards Cerberus' history get in the way of the facts." Sis said.

"Or maybe you feel like you owe them something, because they saved you." Williams growls. "Maybe it's you. Doesn't matter. I'm an Alliance soldier. It's in my _blood._ I still know where my loyalties lie. Do you?"

I was just barely taking her bullshit logic, just barely tolerating the mental hoops she jumped through to justify her dogma. I could excuse it as the result of a lifetime in a program, where you are incubated to believe that you are never in the wrong. Her loyalty to the Alliance was admirable. But I wouldn't let her espouse her pride at the expense of my sister.

"Williams." I growl. "Turn around and look at me again. Real goddamn hard."

She stiffens at my tone, but does as I ask. She stares at me with anger and confusion, wondering who I am to be so brusque. I don't look the same as the last time we met, considering that I've currently got a shaggy beard and that mullet ponytail Sis will eventually make me cut. I've changed. I don't blame her for immediately recognizing me.

But then she figures it out.

"Oh my god…" She whispers, a look of muted horror on her face.

"I was loyal to the Alliance too, Mutt." I said. "My whole life. Know what they did for me in the end? Hoped I'd go away, after I'd followed their orders to the letter. Guess they didn't like the results. They don't care about me. They don't care about Sis. And they don't care about you. All that matters right now is the here and now." I gesture to the stars, in the direction of the now long-gone Collector ship. "And right _now_ there is a threat from beyond the pale, and we are _here_ to find out more about it. That is the sole loyalty that Jane Shepard has: loyalty to life in this godforsaken Galaxy. _And you're getting in her way._ "

She's speechless for a moment. But then she frowns.

"I thought better of you, Commander. But then again, what did I expect? You're working for Cerberus. It makes sense that you'd work with a war criminal too."

That's it.

I pull out one of my Carnifex pistols faster than anyone can react, and in mere moments I have the barrel pressed hard against her forehead.

There's a tense silence.

"You're not crazy enough to shoot me." Williams whispers. I scoff.

"We're trying to save the goddamn galaxy, and you're hung up on the details. On the procedure. On the little things that don't matter. Shooting you wouldn't be crazy, Williams. _It'll be the sanest thing I've ever done._ "

"John, don't do this." Sis said, her voice calm and resolute. Williams is staring me directly in the eye.

"Are you gonna do it?" She hisses. "I have friends who lost family and friends on Torfan. Every day they curse that mission. And they curse the man that led it. But what am I to you? Just another body to destroy, another grunt to be forgotten in the mist."

" _ **FORGOTTEN?!"**_

I do not speak so much as roar, causing everyone, even Sis, to flinch in shock. I stare Williams in the eye, and my voice drops to little more than a whisper. "You think I've forgotten them?"

There is silence. And then I speak again. As I do, I lower the gun.

"I am _haunted_ by them, Mutt."

She looks at me with sad and yet unsympathetic eyes.

"Perhaps that's your cross to bear then, boss." She said. "It would certainly make sense, in a poetic way." She turns back towards Sis. "I'm going to report back to the Alliance about my findings here. I'll…let them decide what to do about you and your ties to Cerberus."

"I hope the next time we meet is under better circumstances, Ashley." Sis said.

Williams gives her a sad look, but does not respond.

…

The return to the Normandy is quiet. Other than some scattered small talk in hushed tones, no one really interacts much. And no one interacts with me. I sit in the corner of the Kodiak, my head rested against the side of the wall and my Carnifex pistols holstered to my hips. I suppose I don't mind the silence: I'm certainly not in any mood to talk to anyone right now. Sis is quietly speaking to someone, because I can hear her voice, and yet I have no idea what she is saying or to whom she's talking to.

After we all re-enter the Normandy, we go our separate ways. Well, at least I think we do. I make a beeline to go somewhere, _anywhere_ where I am alone. Alone like I deserve to be.

It doesn't take me long to find that Kasumi hasn't locked the alcohol cabinet.

…

I stagger through the Normandy as if I'm in a bad dream. The edges of my vision warp and fade, and the colors seem to go in and out of style. Sounds amplify and fade as though they do not follow any particular rule. Nothing makes sense, and sense makes nothing. If there's anyone out and about to see me, they're giving me a wide berth. Not that I blame them. I'm probably a boogeyman to them, after all.

I close my eyes and I can see their faces. Even when I try to breathe louder I cannot drown out their pleading voices in my head. I can't run from them. They won't let me be. If I can just make it to my room, I can go to sleep. Sleep. Sleep and pray to a God that I don't know exists for a dreamless night. I'm almost at the door. I shakily press the button and I hear the door hiss and fade away into the walls.

And my legs go to jello and collapse underneath me.

I hear the shattering of the glass bottle as I fall to the floor, feel the whiskey or whatever it was that I was drinking spatter on my face, and my cheek rests upon on the metallic surface. My vision fades. I blearily look around. Wherever I am, I don't know where. I'm not in my room. I can't escape.

And the shadows descend upon me.

Something in me breaks. It starts small, like the trickling of water from a blocked stream. But like the stream slowly eroding the dam, everything builds to a crescendo and eventually is a torrential downpour. I can feel the hot tears rolling down my cheek.

And I hear myself sobbing.

I don't know how I long I continue like this, lying on the cold metal floor like a wretch. But eventually I realize that there is a presence by me. Looking down upon me. I don't care whether they see me like this anymore. I just want to be left alone. Wallowing.

But then I hear the person sigh, and within moments this person is helping me up and off the ground. Walking me over to a couch or something soft. There's perfume in the air, something like rosemary and pine. Perhaps the latter is just the alcohol. But it's calming. She is calming. The voices fade away, and the faces disappear into the dark matter of my brain.

She stays with me, quietly humming something to herself that is soothing like a lullaby. And soon enough, I can feel my breathing slow. I can feel my heart settling. I can feel myself calming. I don't know if she's really there or not. And I don't care. She is there for me. There for me and she isn't leaving me.

And I am granted exactly the respite I'd been praying for: a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

A/N: Well, that was fun to write. As a little aside, as fun as it is to think of John Shepard as the "badass" Shepard, he's still a Renegade counterpoint to his sister. Thus, what makes complete sense in his mind is somewhat…unsettling to other people. And I'm a fan of Ashley Williams myself, but it's pretty clear that while Sis might be more diplomatic about how her feelings are hurt…John isn't as forgiving. It's part of his character, after all.

He's never really left Torfan, has he?


	17. Conversations

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

I wake to the sensation of being in bed. As my vision returns, I see that this is indeed the case: I don't know where I was last night, nor do I remember how I got there. And I certainly don't remember getting back on this bed. But I'm back to where I usually am. I'm back in my bed.

And I have a massive fucking hangover.

Despite this, I manage to get up. Zaeed has clearly already left the room and is off doing whatever, so I just grab a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt. I'm in no mood to dress up today. There's no one around in the hallways as I go to the showers, and there is no one around as I walk out, dressed and ready…

…to do what, exactly? Fuck if I know.

I feel antsy, but about what I'm uncertain. I don't know where anyone is, and this is bothering me. So I decide to find answers.

"EDI."

This is the first time that I've ever actively solicited the AI, and sure enough it sounds awkward coming out of my mouth. But soon enough a little outlet next to me winks to life.

" _Yes, Specialist Shepard?_ "

"Just call me John." I said, shaking my head. Specialist Shepard sounds like a doctor. And it sounds like someone that they'd make me see.

" _Acknowledged. Updating naming preference…John, can I be of service?_ "

"Yeah…where the hell is everyone?" I asked.

" _To whom are you referring?_ "

I facepalm, having forgotten I was talking to a robot. Or, at least a close equivalent to one. Sometimes you need to be specific.

"Let's start with the basics. Where are we right now?"

" _We are currently travelling at FTL speed towards Illium. It should be a few days before we arrive. We hit the Mass Relay eleven hours, twelve minutes, and fifteen seconds ago._ "

So we're in dead space. Good to know.

"And the other…specialists?" I ask.

" _Mr. Vakarian is currently in the forward engine, running test calibrations to see if a Thanix Cannon upgrade is feasible for the Normandy. Specialists Taylor and Massani are in the armory. Doctor Solus is in the medical center with Doctor Chakwas, discussing differing opinions of medical treatment. Subject Zero is in the lower decks. Specialist "Grunt" is in the cargo hold, at the shooting range. Specialist Lawson is in her office…Would you like me to continue?"_

"Where's my sister?"

There's a pause.

" _Commander Shepard is currently in her office. Her door is locked, and she does not wish to be disturbed at this time._ "

Well, shit. That's not good. I thank EDI for her time, and make my way to the elevator. Might as well get some answers.

…

I sigh as I press the button to open the door, and with a hiss they give away and I step into Miranda's office. She's at her desk, as per usual, working on something. She sees me, and her eyes widen slightly.

"John. I didn't expect you to drop by."

"I normally don't, but I figured I would turn to you." I took a seat on one of the chairs after she offered it, and cleared my throat. "Where's Sis?"

"She's…in her office. Brooding, if I had to guess." Miranda said.

"Horizon shook her up that bad?" I asked. Miranda sighed, her shoulders rising and falling.

"I think that that's a safe assumption. According to my research and from the conversations I've had with her in the past, Miss Williams was a good friend." She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm no psychologist or psychiatrist – that's Yeoman Chambers' job – but if I had to guess, I'd say that Shepar-your sister views that almost as a betrayal." She then leaned forward, and looked me dead in the eye. "Though compared to your reaction, I'd say that Shepard was relatively tame."

Through the haze of my fading hangover, I remember my last actions on Horizon. Particularly the last thing I said to Williams. I wince.

"Tell me something, John." Miranda asked. "What's your history with Miss Williams? Because that blow-up of yours, if you don't mind the expression, was…a little bit personal."

I shrug. She frowns.

"I'm already getting the run-around from one Shepard; she won't even see me. And I'll be damned if the only Shepard I can get a conversation out of is your mother. So open up, John."

I sigh. She's damned persistent.

"We, uh, we knew each other from her days in basic. I was one of the training instructors at the academy for a time; I was the guy in charge of hand-to-hand combat for the new recruits. And I _loved_ beating them into paste and then watching them either pull themselves back together or just give up trying. The Alliance is no place for people that aren't resolute." I shrug. "Mutt was the only one I couldn't break, and the only one that kept coming right back up after getting thrown on her ass with a smile on her face. I liked her immediately."

"You used that name again. 'Mutt.' Is it a nickname?" Miranda asked.

"It's a term of endearment." I said. "It didn't take me long to figure out that she was General Williams' family, and that she was never going to get far in the ranks simply because the Alliance is petty and political. So I told her that if she wanted to get anything in life, she was just gonna have to be stubborn. Like a mutt." I grinned. "She hated the nickname at first, but in the end she started coming up with all sorts of nicknames herself."

"Is that all?" Miranda asked.

"Well, one night at a post-graduation party, when everyone in the class was out for drinks to celebrate their acceptance into the Alliance, she cornered me at the bar and made it _very_ clear that she found me attractive and wouldn't mind celebrating somewhere private, if I wanted." I said, delighting in the way Miranda's eyebrows rose.

"…And?" Miranda asked.

"I thought about it." I said. "Oh, I _thought_ about it. Anyone with eyes could see that Ashley was just as pretty as she was strong and tough, and I joked that part of the reason she kept her hair wrapped up in that bun of hers is because if she let her hair down…she'd be causing traffic accidents."

Miranda rolled her eyes, but I saw the little twinkle in the corner of one of them. Even she had to admit that I had a point. I chuckled a little bit.

"…But I turned her down. I could smell the tequila on her breath. It was just radiating off of her. Even if she wanted it, I just couldn't do that to a girl who wasn't fully aware. I might be a shithead, Miranda…" I shrug. "But I would never take advantage of someone."

"So you were her trainer and could have had a relationship with her." Miranda said.

"You make it sound so clinical." I said.

"I'm just trying to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together." She replied.

Now it was my turn to lean forward in my chair.

"Let me let you in on a secret, Miranda: if you try to plan out for every last variable, and try to account for every last detail…you're fucked. Life is complicated and cruel and _delights_ in screwing with our plans to master it. Not everything is connected to some sort of grand scheme. Sometimes things just…happen."

"That's a remarkably nihilistic way to view things." Miranda said.

"I never said it was pointless." I said. "I just said that if you try to account for _everything_ , then you're setting yourself up for failure. You don't always have to plan. Sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches."

"…I suppose that's fair. Though in my experience I've had plenty of success making my plans work." Miranda said.

"Yeah…your plans…" I trail off, and then for whatever reason I speak again. "So you've been picking my brain about me and my sister for some time now, but it occurs to me that I've never really asked you about…you."

"About me?" Miranda asked.

"Yeah. Does that surprise you?"

"A little." Miranda said. "Mostly because people are usually…intimidated by me. Not that I blame them."

"Do I look like someone who intimidates easily?" I asked. To my surprise, she laughs. It's a decidedly musical sound.

"No, if anything you're the one that does the intimidating." She said. "Alright. Well, I guess I should come clean: I've had extensive genetic modification. Not my decision…but I've made the most of it."

I notice that there's a pain in her eyes when she says this last sentence.

"It's one of the reasons the Illusive Man handpicked me for the Lazarus Cell." She continued. "I'm very good at just about anything that I do."

"What level of genetic modification are we talking about?" I ask. I hope that didn't sound nearly as creepy as I thought it did. She doesn't seem creeped, though.

"It's very thorough. Physically, I'm superior in many ways. I heal wuickly and I'll likely live half again as long as the average human."

I quickly do the mental math. Average lifespan of a human these days is about a hundred to a hundred and twenty five, provided they're not putting themselves in stupid danger (and that is a _real_ challenge for us meatbags). Throw in the math and…

I whistle.

"Wow. You could pass two hundred. That's pushing into Asari territory."

"I'd be lying if I didn't hope to look half as good as they do at that age." Miranda said. "My biotics are also quite advanced for a human. Add to that the best training and education that money can buy and, well, it's quite impressive, really."

I nod in agreement.

"This is usually the point where people tell me that I'm insufferable." Miranda comments.

I shrug.

"Well, it's like a wise man once said: It ain't bragging if you go out and do it." I said. Miranda looks slightly confused.

"I'm not familiar with that phrase." She said. I shrug and give a meek smile.

"It's, um, it's an old one. From a guy who's been dead for a long time."

"A philosopher, perhaps?" Miranda asked. "I didn't say that I didn't like the line: I'm just not familiar with it. Maybe I'll look into his works. What was his name?"

I gulp. Not exactly what I was expecting but…you know what? This might be good.

"Dean." I said. "Jay Hanna Dean."

"I'll make a note of that." Miranda said. "I don't get the chance to read much these days. I look forward to it."

It's an utter miracle that she doesn't see me trying not to laugh.

After a moment's pause, she looks me in the eye.

"Are you going to be alright? The ending of the Horizon mission had a lot of people worried. About both you and your sister."

"Yeah. I'm fine." I said. "I was more mad that Mutt was being so callous to Sis."

"And yet it wasn't until she called you a war criminal that you pulled a pistol to her temple." Miranda said.

There is a dead silence between us.

"Is that how you see yourself, John?" She asked quietly. "As a war criminal?"

"Maybe." I said, feeling a darkness growing inside me. "What's it to you?"

She looks sad.

"I wouldn't call myself an angel, John. I'm not trying to make things difficult."

"You are anyway." I said.

"…Fair enough." Miranda said. "Let's change the subject. Can you do me a favor?"

"Depends on the favor. I don't like bounty hunting unless the pay is really good."

Miranda chuckles.

"Too bad that we're using up that portion of the budget to pay Mr. Massani." She said. "I just need you to keep an eye on your sister for me, ok? Whenever she's out and about, let me know. There are some clerical things that we need to take care of, hopefully before we land on Ilium. Nos Astra is quite the bureaucratic nightmare and…the less time we have to haggle with customs there, the better off everyone will be."

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out for her." I said. I get up to leave. As I do, I hear the typing of keys from a terminal, but I get the sensation that Miranda is watching me go. But then the door closes behind me, and that sensation is gone.

…

It's hours later, long after what you'd call nighttime (though who knows what means what in space), and I can't sleep. Zaeed's snoring in the cot next to me doesn't help. I decide not to throw a pillow at him and tell him to shut up, so I decide to just go and get something to drink. Non-alcoholic, for once. Maybe the act of moving around will so tire me out that it'll all be pointless.

I find Sis sitting at the bar in the mess hall, all by herself. There's a couple of scattered lights on throughout the place, but for the most part it's pretty dark. She's just sitting there quietly, hand resting under her chin and a faraway gaze in her eyes. There's a small glass of something in front of her. If I know Sis well enough, it's scotch. Sis was always a fan of the stuff.

I decide to clear my throat and make my presence known. Sis nods once, but doesn't look over to acknowledge my presence. She sees me out of the corner of her eye, though, and continues nursing whatever it is that she's drinking. I decide to make myself a sandwich in addition to a glass of water, and take a seat next to her. For a while, neither of us talk.

"There've been a few times since we left that I wish you'd pulled the trigger." Sis finally breaks the silence. I turn and look at her.

"On Mutt?" I asked.

"Yeah. On…Mutt." Sis said, as though calling her something other than Williams or Ash is strange or even painful. The way she spits out that last word makes it clear that we're in for a long night. "It was like she didn't even recognize me, Bro. Like…like I was a machine or something pretending to be Shepard." She turns and looks at me. "But I'm me. I'm alive. Aren't I?"

I just shake my head.

"Sis…Don't start thinking crap like that. You're alive."

"But I _died._ " She said. "I still remember the last moments. Trying to close that leak in my hardsuit. Trying to hold my breath. Feeling my lungs set on fire. Feeling…" Then she frowns. "What bothers me is that one minute I was dying over whatever that planet was…and the next I'm waking up on a table on some Cerberus ship. Literally like a blink, Bro. That puzzles me."

"Why?" I asked. "Did you think that there'd be something there…after?"

"I guess." Sis said. "But the thing is there's something in me that keeps telling me that I know the answer…but I can't conceive of it. I can't even think the thoughts to make words to describe it. All I know is that I know that I know. But I can't say it. Does that make sense?" She asked.

"A little bit." I said. She sighed, and took another sip of scotch.

"I practically watched Ash grow as a person." She said. "She was so touchy around aliens, so quick to advocate shooting something or getting into a fight. She literally became more level-headed as the mission to stop Saren progressed. And after Liara's mother died…" She pauses, and it's clear that this is a painful memory for her. "…After Liara's mother died, I was the first one to console Liara. But Ash was the second. It was so nice of her." Her reminiscene turns to disgust. "Who the hell does she think I am? Who does she think _she_ is? I thought we were _friends,_ I…" She buries her head in her hands. "Why is everything so goddamn complicated, John? Why can't things just be easy, for once in my fucking life?"

I gently place my hand on her shoulders. There's something humorous in a twisted way about how the totally messed up one is the one offering support, and yet here I am.

"I seem to recall a wise lady telling me, after I'd nearly flunked my basic training test, that I could still pull it off on the make-up. But she never told me it would be easy. She said that it was gonna suck something awful, and that I was going to hate most of it. And I'd feel like the weight of the world was gonna be on my shoulders. And then she said something to keep in mind after that." I paused. "What was that, Sis? What did you tell me all those years ago?"

She gets her head out of her hands, and slowly sits upright. She stares at me, and offers a little smirk.

"I said to plant your feet."

"That's right. And here I am, passing on the same advice to you." I said. "When you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders, plant your feet. You can do this, Sis. Not only do I know that you are capable of it, I know that you _will_ do it. And we'll make it through this suicide mission of yours and piss on the Collectors' grave."

Sis snorts with laughter. I chuckle myself, too. Finally, wiping a tear from her eye, Sis speaks.

"Promise me something, though, Bro." She said.

"Anything."

"It's going to be awful and hard for me. And I'll be tired and pissed for a long time, I imagine. But I will get it done, because I'm a fighter. Just…promise me that you'll fight too. For me?"

I know that she isn't talking about this suicide mission of hers anymore. But I'm not about to bring her down.

"Yeah, Sis. Yeah, I will."

After all, I've been fighting myself for years.

A/N: Look up Jay Hanna Dean if you want. Miranda's in for quite the surprise.


	18. Blue Roses of Illium

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

I've often heard that Illium is considered the "rose of the galaxy," even though Thessia is the capital of Asari space. On the surface, I suppose it is an apt comparison: Ilium is a damned pretty sight to look at, as the architecture of some of the megacities somehow manages to look natural and not at all out of place on the planet surface. It's a melting pot of people and cultures and races, all under the careful watch of the Asari matriarchs that run the place. It's clean, it's bustling, and it is impressive.

But just like any rose, if you dig a little too deep under the surface you're bound to get pricked by one of the many thorns that lie in wait. Sure, Illium is the rose of the galaxy. I'll give it that.

But as far as I'm concerned, it's just Omega with cleaner streets.

As we heard the magnetized locks hold the Normandy in place, the bunch of us stood in the decontamination chamber, waiting for the all-clear to get out and stretch our legs. There was a lot of us. The Normandy was planning to stay in Ilium for at least a week so that this big-ass Thanix cannon could be added to the ship's core. Late last night, Garrus had cracked the code for how to put the thing together, and had practically danced a jig when Sis approved the tactical blueprints. And seeing as the Normandy would be grounded as we added this cute toy, that meant that a lot of the crew wanted to get off the ship and out and about. Again, Cerberus was footing the bill, so as long as we didn't ruin anything…what was the big deal?

The door opened, and the flood of people spilled onto the catwalk. Sis was at the front of the group, and began talking to this one Asari attendant that had been sent to meet us at the dock. I didn't really listen to them talk much. But then I heard the name of the lady that had paid all of our docking fees.

Liara T'Soni.

I watched as Sis went rigid at the sound of that name, and I looked over at Zaeed, who was leaning next to me on the railing with a cigarette half-lit in his mouth. He just shook his head.

"Ain't gonna be pretty, Doc. I'd bet money on that." He said. Sis quietly talked to the Asari for a few more minutes, and then walked back over to the main group. She cleared her throat.

"Ok. So, while the Normandy is getting the Thanix cannon upgrade we're gonna have to be grounded. For one week, we're here on Ilium. Consider yourselves on shore leave, though keep your communicators on whenever you're out in public in case you need to be called back to the Normandy at your post. Miss Lawson has updated the skeleton crew list for our stay: be sure to check and make sure you're not on the list for duty before you go partying or otherwise. I have my omni-tool if anyone needs to get in touch. Dismissed."

There was a great bit of excitement as the crowd of humans all made their way towards the city. Miranda walked up next to Sis.

"Isn't it somewhat worrisome that a cadre of Cerberus-affiliated humans are parading into Ilium, which is Asari-owned territory?" Miranda asked. Sis shrugged.

"They're all in plainclothes, and I doubt they're gonna make a lot of trouble. We can handle whatever they throw at us." She turned to the rest of the specialists, and cleared her throat. "Similar rules apply to us, but since we're all…slightly ahead of the curve for the ship, here's the deal: we're also looking for two potential recruits on Ilium. I'll keep you posted on the information if anything comes up. For now, get some R&R…and try not to get into any fights. In fact, Grunt you're with me."

"But if I am challenged, I must answer in trial by combat!"

"Grunt, stop watching those old _Game of Thrones_ holovids. Seriously, who's lending him those?"

"Uh…"

"Garrus, your streaming privileges are hereby revoke until further notice."

"But Shepaaaaarrd!"

"Don't 'But Shepard' me, Turian. You brought this upon yourself." She looked over at me. "Bro, you and Zaeed can handle yourselves, right? Keep a tracker pin on in case someone wants to join you."

I just shrug and nod. Clearly Sis might want to be alone in case she goes and reconnects with Liara. I don't blame her. Two years is an awfully long time to make up.

…

"I never liked this goddamn planet."

Zaeed is walking alongside me, as the two of us make our way through a relatively spacey shopping district. I glance over at him.

"You work here often?"

"Only a few times. I was hired as security detail once or twice for some building projects. The Asari on Ilium make those old bastards in Dubai look like fuckin' amateurs. They see shit like our ancient Burj Khalifa and Jeddah Tower and they find us laughable."

The more I hang out with him, the more I realize that Zaeed might be the galaxy's greatest trivia player if he ever got around to sharing that treasure trove of info in his head with the rest of the galaxy, besides me. It's a wonder that he knows all of this.

"How do you know all that?" I ask. He looks at me and shrugs.

"I read." He looks annoyed. "What, you think I spend every waking hour plotting revenge against the people who've wronged me? I spend an hour, _tops_ , and then it's back to life as per usual. I don't spend all my time brooding like fuckin' Batman, the way the Turian does."

I perk up.

"Garrus is bothered by something?"

"Have you been livin' under a bloody rock, Doc?" Zaeed asked. He lowered his voice a bit. "Vakarian is still badly hung up over the loss of his merc team in Omega. I think he thinks one of his men betrayed the rest, and he's trying to hunt the poor bastard and extract some justice."

"You're a merc, Zaeed." I said, beginning a trail of thought.

"I'm a highly paid _contractor_ , thank you very goddamn much."

"…Whatever. You're a 'contractor:' think Garrus can pull that off?" Zaeed gives it a moment's thought, and takes a drag on his cigarette. He lets the smoke out through his nostrils like a Komodo dragon before he speaks.

"It can be done." He finally said. "Just not the way he wants it to be." He looks at me. "Vakarian's running under a lot of rage, I imagine. And it ain't a bad thing in some cases. It's what kept me alive after getting popped in the face."

I just stare at him, skeptically. He looks at me and growls.

"Rage can be a hell of an anesthetic, Doc." Zaeed said. "But it can also be poisonous to those that don't know how to handle it."

"And you're saying that you can handle it, and Garrus can't?"

"That's goddamn right." Zaeed said. "I've been doing this for years, and years. How long has Vakarian been getting his hands dirty outside of C-Sec? I bet two years, tops. That's bloody infancy. He wouldn't know what to do with his rage if you hit him upside the head. So Comman-your sister better keep an eye on him."

As we speak, Garrus walks up next to us.

"Gentlemen." He said. "I spent about two minutes walking with Kasumi, Lawson, and Shepard…and as soon as they started talking about things like 'boutiques' and 'pedicures' I realized that it was time for me to scram, lest I lose the remainder of my badass-ness."

"What about Grunt?" I asked. "Isn't he with them?"

"He's too busy just looking menacing. And maybe he thinks it's funny that the world stops and wonders what in the goddamn is a Krogan doing listening to women blather on about make-up and the like."

"I dare ya to say that to their faces." Zaeed said with a cackle. Garrus pales.

"Spirits, no. You'd be picking pieces of me out of the bulkhead for weeks." He said. Zaeed laughs.

"Don't be ri _di_ culous!" He then grins like a wolf. "We'd never find you."

Garrus pales again.

…

We keep walking in a slightly swankier version of where we were, and now there's a railing that gives us a breathtaking view of the Nos Astra skyline. Zaeed has his omnitool playing a little tune in one of his earbuds. It's that same Midge Ure song, "The Man Who Sold the World" or something like that. That leaves Garrus and I to make conversation. It isn't difficult.

"…Excuse me, Garrus Vakarian?"

We look over. There's a dark-skinned woman sitting at a table. She's got a pretty suave dress on, yet her hair looks a little too…proper for the get-up. She's undercover, alright. Garrus walks over to her.

"…Yes?" He asked. The woman smiled.

"I thought I might recognize you. It's the gait of your walk. I remember it from when I last saw you." She extends a hand. "Gianna Parasini. I worked for Noveria Internal Affairs when you were planetside with Commander Shepard." She lowered her voice. "I heard a crazy rumor that…the Commander is alive?" Garrus laughed.

"You know, I remember you all right. You were pretty slick hauling that basatard Anoleis off." Garrus said. "And your sources tell the truth. She's currently shopping for something right now." Gianna stifled a snicker.

"Oh, what I wouldn't give to see what she wanted to buy." She glanced off to the side, and cleared her throat. "Hey listen, I just remembered that I have to take care of something. I have to go. Talk to you later?" She gets up to leave. "Oh, and don't forget to drink your beer."

Garrus stares after her in confusion, and then looks at the glass of dark liquid.

"…But I don't drink human beer." He said, vaguely confused. I rolled my eyes.

"Give me that." I said, grabbing the glass and downing it in a gulp. Oh, that's some good stuff. I almost forget to read the little handwritten scribble on the piece of paper stuck under it.

 _Had to leave. Target saw me. Couldn't break cover. Asari merchant smuggling schematics from Noveria. Can you talk her into showing you good stuff?_

I'm impressed that she managed to write all of that in such a short time, but oh well. I look at Garrus and Zaeed.

"You two stick around. Order a drink, if you like?" Zaeed senses what I'm doing, and smiles.

"Save some of the pot for me, will ya?"

I roll my eyes, and walk over.

The Asari merchant is wearing a blue and white dress, and she smiles far too widely for someone in her position.

"Welcome!" She said. "You look like someone who needs high-quality equipment!" She gestured around her kiosk. "Feel free to look around. My store has the best tech and biotic equipment on Illium."

I look at her blankly, and raise an eyebrow. Wordlessly, I draw one of my Carnifex out of its holster. I eject the heat sink (because safety first, after all), and twirl it around in my fingers lazily. The Asari as well as the rest of the people working or walking nearby are enraptured. This is not that impressive of a trick in my opinion, but oh well.

"This is the greatest handgun ever made." I said. "The M-6 Carnifex. Six shots. More than enough to kill anything that moves. Now tell me…" I ask, looking at her and giving her the look that got me a lot of one-night stands over the years. "Why would I need to augment the best with anything else?"

Cracked her like an egg.

"Well…perhaps I could give you a preferred rate at the kiosk, honey?" She asked. She types a few things at the terminal. "Here…a small discount. And when I get special items, you can take a look."

"Special items?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and never once letting the smirk leave my lips. "Just what kind of special items are we talking about, here? Handbooks on how to bed pretty ladies?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Zaeed shaking with laughter and Garrus just shaking his head with his hand on his face. Of course they're listening in on my conversation. Nosy jackasses.

The Asari laughes, and I catch a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

"Oh, no nothing like that!" She said. I could have sworn I heard her add "but I wish…" under her breath. She clears her throat. "But really it's just schematics, and designs. Nothing illegal but, ah…" She trails off. "I may not have all the licenses yet."

I chuckle.

"Come on, baby. There has to be at least something that can augment this." I point to my pistol. "Guns need a friend, too." She looks at me, and then whispers.

"Well, there's one thing I think you might like. It's not publically available yet. That doesn't bother you, does it?" She asked. I shrug.

"It doesn't bother me." I said. And just like that, my fake sweetness dissolves away and the kindness in my voice fades. "But I bet it bothers her."

"Hello, Hermia." Gianna Parasini said, with perhaps the greatest timing in existence. She effortlessly walks up towards us. "I think the reason you're so hesitant to give info to your customer here is because your schematic is still in development on Noveria. And illegal for export."

"Parasini?" Hermia said, her voice getting brattier by the second. "You set me up! But this isn't Noveria! You don't have the authority to arrest me!"

"I don't care whether you go to jail." Gianna said. "I've got all the evidence I need to fine you out of business."

Desperately, Hermia looks over at me as though I'm about to save her.

I just give her my best impression of a grinning shark.

"I…I have to go. I have to talk to my lawyer." Hermia stammers, as she runs off.

"Talk fast, Hermia!" Gianna shouted after her. "When the fines hit, you won't be able to afford him!" She turned to look at me, and saw that I was still smiling like that. "You can…stop doing that, now. It's rather…unsettling."

I oblige her by making myself as expressionless as possible.

"That's…not much better, but okay!" Gianna said. "Stop by my table when you've got a minute. We've kept your friends waiting long enough."

Gianna looks mighty satisfied as we finish up the paperwork.

"Hermia is going to be a very poor woman very shortly." She said. "Thanks for the help…" She trailed off. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."

What the hell. She deserves it.

"Jonathan." I said. "Jonathan Mercer Shepard."

"That's quite the name. It's just like-" Realization hits her. "Oh. _Oh,_ holy shit. I went hunting for a minnow with a great white shark. You handle things a little bit differently than your sister…No offense."

"None taken." I said.

"I love nailing Asari." Parasini said. "So ageless and superior – then you get them, and they squeal like schoolgirls."

"Like busting white collar assholes?" I asked.

"I wanted to be a cop, or C-Sec, but my family had bills. And I needed the money of a corporate job." She said. "Besides, in this job, you don't see things that make it hard to sleep at night. White collar crime is nice and clean."

"I hear that." I said. "Well, we should get going." I stand up and extend my hand. "A pleasure, Miss Parasini."

"You too, John." She said. "See you around." She takes my hand and shakes it, and then starts to walk away. And then she stops. "Aw, what the hell."

She turns around, walks up to me, and plants a kiss on my cheek. And then she walks away smiling.

It'd be another thirty minutes before I figured out that she'd slipped her number in my pocket. Her talents are _wasted_ as a corporate ball-buster.

"Maybe we should meet up with Shepard." Garrus said. "I imagine at some point she's talked to…Liara."

"Oh joy." Zaeed said. "This is gonna end well."

…

On the way towards where Sis' transponder was pinging, we were greeted by thr strangest of sights. It was a Krogan, wearing a cloak of sorts…and he was reciting poetry. _Poetry._

"Oh Blue Rose of Illium, let your roots dig deep into the hot soil of Tuchanka!"

…Oh man.

"Let our scorching sun and sheeting rain turn your supple beauty into strength!"

Is this guy for real?

"For if our love is to survive, it must grow thorns to pierce the hand of any that would seek to uproot it!"

Jesus Christ, he makes Vogon poetry sound like Shakespeare.

I can't take it anymore. As Garrus and Zaeed quietly debate over whether they should take video of the bastard, I look for the target of this cruel and unusual punishment. It doesn't take long: it's an Asari a few meters away from the bleeding heart idiot, trying her hardest to look like she doesn't know this guy.

She looks at me, and is clearly embarrassed.

"What do you want?" She asked.

That voice. It sounds like-

 _Standing in a field as the moon hangs high in the sky. It is a calm before a storm, though we don't know it. We share a light in the night, the acrid fumes of the cigar between us. She adjusts the bandanna over her eyes and smiles…_

I blink once, and realize that she's talking again.

"Sorry, sorry. That damn Krogan's love poems are getting on my nerves."

"There's a Krogan reading love poems to get your attention?" I asked. She nodded.

"His name is Charr. We're kind of dating but, well…we're on a break."

I debate asking whether it's because of his choice in entertainment, but I doubt that'd go over well. So I let her keep talking.

"He's trying to show me how sensitive he is by, well, wooing me. It's really, really bad." She seems embarrassed for his sake.

"In a way, it's rather impressive. If you're able to get a Krogan to fall over himself with love poems, you must be special to him." I said. She sighes.

"He's a great guy! Fun, charming, and really thoughtful at times. Especially for a Krogan. He's got a good job too. It's just…he's serious. Serious as in talking about kids. Charr is a great guy to date, but for something permanent?" She looks over at him. "Krogan live long lives. It's not like dating a human, where you just stick it out for a century until they die." She looks panicked at my reaction. "Uh, no offense." She clears her throat. "It made me wonder if he really likes me, or if he just wantskids. He can't have them any other way, you know. Because of the genophage."

I usually try to keep in mind that other aliens are gonna think about things differently. Asari in particular are rather…hard to figure, considering their lifespan. And I'm no expert on love. But even I know when someone needs a swift kick in the priorities.

"This is a Krogan that is willing to humiliate himself in public, reading _poetry,_ in an effort to warm your heart." I said. "Let me ask you something. Have you brought up the fact that his kids will only be Asari?"

"We did." The Asari said. "Charr was quiet for a long time. And then he said that he'd love our girls no matter what color they were."

I smile. Not one of my shark grins that scared that other Asari and scaroused (if that's a word) Gianna Parasini. A regular old grin that I don't find myself making much these days. I chuckle.

"You need to talk to your boyfriend, or he's gonna start reciting the best works of Master Grunthos the Flatulent next."

"Oh Goddess, that doesn't sound appealing. And you're right. But…" She said. "It's hard! I like him a lot." Her voice drops and she gets quiet. "Hell, I _love_ him! But I don't know if he's permanent bond material."

"Look at him." I said. "He's obviously crazy about you."

"Is he?" She asked. "Or am I just his baby-making machine? I know he said I wasn't, but-"

"Ma'am, I am no expert on love." I said. "At first, I was just coming up here to tell you to get him to shut up. But there's one thing I know about true love. When you're in its presence, you can feel it washing over you, even if you aren't the person loving or being loved. You just feel its power and scope. And that kind of thing only comes once in a lifetime. Even a lifetime as long as an Asari's." I point to Charr, who sounds like he's on the fifth canticle of perhaps the second-worst poetry in the galaxy. "And I can tell you, with every fiber of my being, that that man loves you. He _loves_ you. It radiates off of him like a solar flare. And if you love him too…" I shrug. "Then what are you waiting for?"

"I…I guess I hadn't thought about it like that." She said. "I…I'm going to talk to him." She said, a relieved smile on her face. "Thank you, sir. What is your name?"

I look at her, and just shrug.

"Call me Doc."

I hear her interrupt his ramblings, and from the sound of it things seem to be going well. I turn to Garrus and Zaeed, feeling mighty pleased with myself. But then I see the looks on their faces.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Miranda buzzed in." Garrus said.

"Apparently, Shepard is meeting with Liara." Zaeed said. He looked genuinely sad. "Apparently, the reunion ain't gonna be sunshine and rainbows."

Shit. _Shit._

They see my body language as a sign to get moving, and we all make our way to wherever it is that Miranda messaged us from.

I get there in time to hear voices coming from behind the closed door. Miranda and Kasumi are sitting in the lobby, quite awkwardly waiting out every word and shout from the other side. I don't know, but I think I hear crying. It's not pretty. I look at Miranda.

"What's going on?" I asked. Miranda sighes.

"I think your sister thought things would be like old times." She said. "She…forgets that Liara had to live through those two years that she was gone alone." Miranda shrugged. "Also, T'Soni has become an information broker here on Illium. It's the kind of profession that requires a certain…coldness. A coldness that I'm sure the Commander is not used to experiencing."

And then the door opened.

…

I watched Sis leave the room, and could practically feel the sorrow radiating off of her. Whatever plans I imagine that Sis had…they had all gone to pot. This meeting clearly had not gone done the way that she was hoping for. I watched her go, and I thought that I saw a small tear roll down her cheek, as she stared off into the distance at the Nos Astra skyline.

And I started to see red.

"Zaeed?" I asked. "Keep your tracker holo on. I'll catch up." He caught the growl in my voice, and nodded wordlessly. With that, I turned around and stomped back into the room.

"Can I be of ser- _oompf!_ " I shoved the secretary, whatever the hell her name was, out of my way so that I had a clear line at that blue lady behind the desk. She looked up at me, and looked somewhat bored.

"Can I help you, sir?" She asked. I put my hands on the desk and leaned forward, so that there was not nearly as much space between us.

"Let's get something clear here, _miss T'Soni._ I don't know how it is that you deal with things here on Ilium or how you Asari work in general, but whatever your method of handling peoples' feelings are, and how you handle love? You're pathetic."

"I…I don't understand what you're-"

" _SHE LOVES YOU, YOU STUCK-UP BITCH!"_ I slam my fist on the table, knocking some immaculately arranged holopads out of line. "It practically radiates off of her, like staring at the sun at close range! Or have you forgotten what it feels like to love someone, as you sit here and play spy? Well, I have news for you, _sweetheart_." I leaned in closer. "You're in the wrong line of work, lady. You might have the brains. Hell, you might even have the coldness. But when the chips are down, you don't have the ruthlessness. I can practically see it in your eyes. Whatever façade you're playing? I hope there's someone else underneath, who's just playing the part as she waits for a greater opportunity to break the illusion. Because otherwise, you're just a person who hurt my sister."

I pause to let her register my words, and when I speak again my voice is little more than a whisper.

"And people who hurt my sister tend to end up _dead._ "

I turn around and leave her behind. Maybe I was too hard on her. Maybe I was missing the forest for the trees. And maybe, deep down, she really does love my sister as much as my sister clearly loves her.

But then I hear Zaeed calling for me, and I know that we have work to do.

A/N: I love Liara. But I imagine that John, without knowing all of the facts and assuming that Liara has hurt his vulnerable sister, does not love her.


	19. …And Justice for All

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

I caught up with the rest of the team after a few moment's worth of walking. The others seemed like they didn't want to get into whatever it was that Sis and I had just dealt with. Zaeed gave me a sympathetic nod, but other than that, no one said anything. Sis made eye contact with me, her eyes glistening and cheeks slightly red and puffy, and she spoke in a small voice.

"Everything ok, Bro?" She asked. I shrugged.

"Maybe. You ok, Sis?" I asked. She shrugged right back at me.

"I'll survive." She looked around. "Liara gave me a lead into finding someone to add to our team: an Asari Justicar by the name of Samara."

Almost immediately, the mood of the group changed. I wouldn't say that everyone got fearful but…there was a definite tension in the air. Sis sensed the same change that I did, and frowned.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"It's just…always thought that Justicars were legends." Garrus said. He seemed to be speaking for the rest of the group with his sheepishness. "I didn't think that there were actually lone wolf Asari that acted like vigilante fighters following some archaic code."

"I heard that they kill low-rent criminals by ripping their arms off and beating them to death." Zaeed said.

"A bit gruesome, but not terribly out of the norm-" Miranda began.

"-Using the arms that they've just ripped off."

"Interesting. Rigor mortis would negate potential strength of dismembered joints. Amusing anecdote, however."

"Must you ruin every goddamn story I got, Solus?"

"Only when utterly unbelievable, Mr. Massani."

"Didn't ask _you,_ Lawson."

"Okay, that's enough!" Sis said, drawing everyone's attention. "I don't think that we're going to need everyone on this mission, so I want Zaeed, Kasumi, Garrus…and John sticking with me. Everyone else can return to the Normandy or remain in relatively close contact to the ship." With that, the rest of the team sauntered off. Some of them seemed particularly eager to not tangle with this mysterious "Jussticar."

With a title like that, I could only imagine the ball-busting she was capable of.

…

"Soo…who are we looking for, again?" Zaeed asked.

"There's an officer by the name of Dara around here that…that Liara said would be helpful in tracking down the Justicar." Sis said.

"Always nice to have a few officers in your back pocket whenever you need fast information." Kasumi said with a little grin on her face. Garrus just stared at her.

"…Do I want to know why you know this to be a helpful trait?" The Turian asked.

"Are you a cop?" Kasumi asked.

"…Er…no, I'm not." Garrus said.

"Then you're free to know. Stop by some time soon and I'll fill you in on all the little tricks of the trade." Kasumi said. Zaeed just rolled his eyes.

"This better be worth it, Shepard. Lawson confiscated my last pack of smokes and if I don't buy some in a few hours I'm gonna get bloody cranky."

"Smoking isn't prohibited on the Normandy." Sis said with a confused tone. "…Why did Miranda confiscate your cigarettes?"

"Might've had something to do with me blowing a puff in her face when she said to stop smoking around her."

"Oh, Zaeed…" Sis muttered.

Eventually, we reached an information desk manned by an Asari cop. She looked overworked, underfed, and stressed out. When she made eye contact wih Sis, she just gave a sigh.

"Can I help you?" She asked in a tone that hoped that she couldn't. Sis cleared her throat.

"I'm looking for an Asari warrior named Samara. Does that ring any bells?"

Instantly, the officer's eyes snapped wide open. She looked rather fearful.

"Wait, why? Do you have a problem or-" She looked panicked. "Oh shit, did she kill someone already?"

That has got to be one of the last things I'd expect to hear from a cop. The cop, whom I assume is Officer Dara, looks utterly mortified at our presence now. Sis talked her off the ledge.

"Relax. I just need to speak with her." Sis said. Dara's shoulders drooped.

"Good. Samara's the first Justicar I've seen on Illium. If I'm lucky, things will stay peaceful." She gestured behind us. "She went to the commercial spaceport a few hours ago. If you want to get there, the pedestal on the balcony behind you will summon a cab." She then looked a little bit worried. "Just be…polite when you meet her."

"Why the bloody hell do we have to do that?" Zaeed asked, mostly to rile the poor girl up, I think.

"Justicars embody our highest laws, and they usually stay in Asari space." Dara said. "She's not used to dealing with aliens."

"We'll be careful." Sis said, pressing afew buttons on her omnitool to remotely summon a cab to the balcony behind us.

"Try not to piss her off." Dara said, returning to her terminal.

Well, that's comforting.

…

We arrived at the spaceport about fifteen minutes later, as a commotion was beginning to brew out in the open. A Volus merchant, flanked by two Turian guards, was making his way out of town, if I had to guess. The Asari officer in the vicinity was not having it.

"Where do you think you're going?" She demanded.

" _Fsssssht._ I'm taking my goods to Omega, Detective." The Volus said, in between deeps breaths.

"You're not going _anywhere_ , Merchant." The Detective said. "Not until I've solved this murder."

A murder? Either it's a giant coincidence or holy shit does that Justicar work quickly.

"I had nothing to do with that! _Fsssssht._ It was one of those mercenary thugs that oyou can never seem to get rid of." The Volus said.

"The victim was your business partner, and I'm not ruling you out." The detective said. "I'll let you know when you can leave."

"What about that Justicar that just showed up? _Fsssssht_ Everyone says she might go crazy and start killing everyone. I need to leave!"

"She'll only kill the unjust, so I'm sure that you have _nothing_ to worry about, Pitne For." The Detective said with an expert placement of shade towards the grubby Volus. "Find me in the station if you need me."

We decided to take the officer's advice, and followed her into the station.

No sooner had she sat down in her chair did we enter her office. She looked rather annoyed.

"I'm Detective Anaya." She said. "If you've got a score to settle with Samara, take it somewhere else – I've got more than enough trouble here already."

"I need to recruit Samara for my mission, but then we'll be on our way."

"Justicars usually work alone…but they are drawn to impossible causes."

"We've got _that_ covered." Garrus said, drawing an annoyed glance from Sis.

"If you're getting her out of my district, I'll get you to her ASAP." Anaya said. "She's at the crime scene."

"You want to get rid of her?" Sis asked. "Also, you're letting her look at a sealed crime scene?"

"I'm a cop." Anaya retorted. "I'll work with a Justicar all I can. Besides, she's been looking at crime scenes longer than our two lifespans combined. She knows how to handle herself." She then sighed. "As for the reason I want her gone? My bosses want me to detain her. They're worried she'll cause some kind of cross-species incident. But her Justicar Code won't let her be taken into custody. If I try it…she'll have to kill me." She smirked. "I have no interest in dying, so if you lure her away with some big noble cause before I have to carry out my orders, I'm thrilled to help you."

"Your superiors are forcing you into an untenable and, frankly, reckless environment by following orders." Sis said."They're putting your life in danger. You have a right to refuse."

"We have a right to refuse suicidal orders? Why wasn't I told?" Garrus asked, clapping his talons to his face in mock surprise.

"Help me out, Goto. How many of those do we get in a week?" Zaeed asked.

"Roughly two. Depends on the week." Kasumi said.

"Laugh it up." Sis growled. She turned back to Anaya. "How do we get to the crime scene?" She asked.

"It's around the corner." Anaya said. "Go around to the left, and look for the police lines. I'll let the other officers know that you're on your way over. Be careful, though: there are Eclipse mercs crawling all over the back alleys."

...

Sis nodded, and that was our cue to take our leave. We followed her out the door, and made our way towards the veranda that we'd landed at originally. Pitne For was grumbling something to one of his two meathead bodyguards about needing a lawyer and not having to put up with this shit. Off to the side was an entryway to some back alley. Holographic police tape, shining bright blue, cordoned off the area. It turned red and started beeping as each of us passed through it, but the officer at the scene waved it off.

"Don't worry about it." She said. "Anaya gave us the clearance to let you through…watch yourself, though. There's a lot of Eclipse around here. We're waiting on backup."

"We're our own backup." Garrus said, drawing his sniper rifle out. Zaeed chuckled.

"I like that attitude, Garrus."

"Why, Zaeed, have I graduated to first-name basis?" Garrus asked. "I'm so touched I might cry."

"Oh, get over yourself. How the bloody hell did I discover the first Turian with a sense of goddamn humor…"

"Aaaaaand it's gone."

"Both of you, zip it." Sis said. As she led us down the alleyway, I could practically see her tensing up. "Something isn't right. We're not alone around here. Weapons out! And weapons free on any mercs you see."

We all took the cue, and I couldn't resist twirling my Carnifex in each hand a single time. Well, that and I spun them in opposing directions. That one took me a while to get down proper.

As we made our way to a corner, it was clear that we weren't alone by the sounds of voices around the bend.

"Get the rest of Bravo squad prepped. Alpha squad went after that Justicar 20 minutes ago, and they've gone dark."

By the sound of it, that was a rather frustrated Asari commando and her team of what I would assume were Eclipse mercs. Sis gave a silent hand signal, and we all came barreling around the corner with our weapons drawn. The Eclipse sisters didn't even get a single well-timed shot off before we'd gut them all. It was beautifully choreographed chaos.

"You know, as much fun as it is to perfectly pull off an ambush, I prefer a perfectly-orchestrated heist." Kasumi said. She made a face as she stepped over one of the corpses. "Plus, there's a little less blood."

"Hate to break it to you, Goto, but I doubt the show's over." Zaeed said, taking point and gesturing for the rest of us to follow behind him. He got in front of a closed door. "If anything, I got a bad feeling in my bones that it's about to get goddamn started."

As soon as he opened the door, he flinched off to the side as an Asari was thrown screaming into the wall right next to us. There was a dull cracking sound, and she landed on the ground bent in an unnatural way. I looked at her and blinked. There was a ringing in my ears.

 _The grenade took him by surprise. He'd been there to administer last rites and the goddamn bastard had kept a grenade under his back. At least Preacher died doing what he believed in, but I wish he hadn't been twisted around like that._

I blink again, and the ringing is gone and I'm once again looking at the dead Asari.

There's a shattering of glass, and we all look up to see that an Asari Eclipse merc has been thrown screaming out of a window. She was in an office up on the second floor, so that was a pretty nasty drop. Her hitting the ground with a dull thud wasn't the surprising thing. The surprising thing was what followed her.

As Asari, dressed in red armor and pulsing with dark biotic energy. It was somewhat intimidating to look at. We all kept our guns trained on her, though we knew that she was more concerned with the struggling Eclipse soldier on the ground.

"Tell me what I need to know, and I will be gone from here. Where did you send her?"

Her voice is eerily calm and majestic at the same time. I feel like I'm gazing at a samurai, at someone who does not belong in this messy and fucked up galaxy. She speaks and moves as if she stepped off the pages of a Tolkien novel.

"You think I'd betray _her?_ " The Eclipse soldier said, gritting her teeth in pain. "She would hurt me in ways you can't _imagine!_ "

"The name of the ship. Your life hangs on the answer, Lieutenant."

Hmm. I could have sworn that we were investigating a murder, but it appears that this Justicar is looking for someone else. I hate it when gambits pile up on one another like crashed trains.

"You can kill me, but one of us will take you down, Justicar!" The Lieutenant hisses, blood trickling out of her mouth. She's a goner for sure. Now we're just waiting to see how it happens: slowly or painfully.

The Justicar walks up to the woman, and places her boot firmly on the neck of the Eclipse merc. Clearly she's not interested in playing around.

"What was the name of the ship she left on?" She asked it in a calm voice, eerily devoid of emotion, and yet only a fool would dare to defy the dark undercurrent in her voice.

"Go to hell! _"_

A fool that Eclipe merc be.

The Justicar seems to sigh in resignation.

"Find peace in the embrace of the Goddess."

She presses down a little harder on the Eclipse merc's neck, and then with a gurgle the Asari beneath her goes still.

Now it's just us.

…

She turns around and faces us, and as she walks over we can get a better look at the woman that must be Samara. She wears a sort of ceremonial red headband on her forehead, and is dressed in what appears to be a sort of samurai garb of red, gold and black. It's very formal and very ornamental.

It's also _incredibly_ revealing, with a neckline that plunges practically down to her belly button. And yet despite this, there is something very clinical about the way she walks: most likely she's reached the stage where she doesn't need to use sex appeal to get what she wants. Just ask the Eclipse mercs.

Oh wait. They're dead.

"My name is Samara, a servant of the Justicar Code." She said in that same eerily cool voice. "My quarrel is with these Eclipse sisters, but I see five well-armed people before me." She stops walking, and stands directly in front of us.

"Are we friend? Or foe?"

Her question is calm, but the meaning is clear. I pray to whatever deity might listen that Zaeed isn't staring at her cleavage, and if he is that she doesn't catch him.

"I'm Commander Shepard, and I need your help with a critical mission, Samara."

Straight and to the point. Sometimes I butt heads with Sis on that, but in this situation…I'm all for it.

"You honor me." Samara said. The way her shoulders subtly relax (but not entirely) shows that she had been expecting us to do something else. "But I am in the middle of an investigation."

"I need you to help me take down the Collectors."

Again, Sis is not wasting any time here. Probably because she knows that Samara is on a clock to find whomever it is that she just killed that Eclipse soldier for, and to lay it all out on the table now would be best for a quick decision.

"The Collectors are a worthy foe. I would relish testing myself against them. But I seek an incredibly dangerous fugitive."

 _Testing herself?_ What, is this all a game to her? She gestures to the spaceport around us.

"I cornered her here, but the Eclipse sisters smuggled her off-world. I must find the name of the ship she left on before the trail goes cold."

"I wish you were willing to go with the human, Justicar." We turn around to see that Detective Anaya has arrived on the scene. She looks rather hesitant. "I've been ordered to take you into custody if you won't leave."

"You risk a great deal by following your orders, Detective." Samara said. "Fortunately, I will not have to resist. My code obligates me to cooperate with you for one day. After that, I must resume my investigation."

"I won't be able to release you that soon." Anaya said. She seems _very_ disappointed to say that.

"You won't be able to stop me."

In less that ten words, that woman has just dropped the temperature in the room by a couple degrees. The woman is ice cold.

"Let's make a deal." Sis said, stepping in between them. "I'll get the name of that ship. Then you can leave, and Anaya doesn't have to arrest you."

"I like that idea…" Anaya muttered.

"Do that, and I will join you." Samara said. "Then the Code will be satisfied."

"Do you have any leads?" Sis asked. Samara nodded.

"The Volus merchant, Pitne For, is tied to this. Eclipse mercs are preparing to kill him. Get the truth out of him. He may know a way to get into the Eclipse base."

I knew that that little bastard wasn't clean. Sis nods.

"We'll do that."

"Well, I guess I've got to take you back to the station. And…I guess I've got to take you with me." Anaya said. Sis clears her throat, and I see that there's that familiar glint in her eyes. Oh God, this isn't going to be good.

"Detective, why don't I send one of my people with you and Samara? That way, you can feel a little bit better so that you aren't alone with the Justicar."

"Oh?" Anaya looks at her. "And who did you have in mind?"

Sis just shrugs…

…And then stares at me.

 _Fuck._

…

"You are troubled."

We are sitting back at the station now, as Sis has led the others off to chase this ship that Samara is so interested in. We got Pitne For talking pretty easily: I would have just pressed a gun to his temple, but Sis had smooth-talked him so easily it was a wonder that he didn't sell her the oxygen converter he used to breathe. But that just left me, Anaya, and Samara. The latter of whom had broken the silence with those words. Anaya looked over at her from the safety of her desk, and snorted.

"Yeah, you think? I'm in the middle of a murder investigation, there's a shitload of paperwork that I need to get done by the end of the week, I'm freaking out about my husband's new job in the lower wards, _and_ on top of all of that I've got to deal with a Justicar whom I'm supposed to arrest if things go belly up…upon which _I_ will go belly up. So I'm stressed, yes."

"I could sense your worries, Detective." Samara said. "I do not believe that your husband will be in any more danger working at an ER in the wards than he was in the upper levels of Nos Astra. It is rather noble of him to take that job." As she's talking, Anaya stops typing and stares at her slack-jawed. "The paperwork is tedious but there is no degree of impossibility to it; most of it involves the murder of Pitne For's partner. And you will not need to worry about me; I have full faith in the Commander to get things done."

"How…the _fuck_ do you know all that?" Anaya asked. "Are Justicars _psychic?_ "

"No." Samara said. "It's simply a matter of observation." She makes eye contact with Anaya. "There is a sheet of paper on your desk that is out of place with the others. Instead of police letterhead, it carries the logo of a well-known hospital in the area. You've clearly read it numerous times, indicating that A.) the sender is someone that you care deeply about. Judging by the ring on your finger, it must be a loved one. Also, B.), the fact that you keep checking implies that you are trying to calm yourself down about the nature of his job, as if to convince yourself that he will be alright. Jobs in the ER are ones that draw the most stress like that in spouses."

"That…was amazing." Anaya said. Samara looked like she was smiling ever so slightly.

"I am a Justicar, Detective." She said. "Deductive reasoning and skills are critical to our investigations. And I have several centuries of experience." Her smile fades. "And yet I was not actually referring to you."

I realize that she's looking at me.

"I was referring to you. The air around you…it radiates."

"So can you see my chakra or something?" I ask, reaching into my pocket and fishing for a cigarette. Anything to keep from making eye contact with those steely blue eyes of hers.

"It is…not that simple. And yet it is, all the same." She replied. "I can simply feel the troubled air around you." She tilts her head to the side slightly. "What is your name?"

"John." I mumble.

"I'm sorry, I am afraid that you'll have to speak up." Samara said, though there isn't any sarcasm in her voice. She legitimately did not hear me. Either that, or she's respecting my dignity or something like that.

I blow out a stream of smoke, and sigh.

"My name is Jonathan Mercer Shepard."

"Shepard…?" Samara asked. "Are you-"

"Yeah. I'm Commander Shepard's brother." I said. Samara's cryptic little smile returns.

"The family resemblance is strong. Though you do not have her eyes, you have the same determined look about you." She said. "Are you the younger or the older sibling?"

"You're awfully prying." I replied.

"The older sibling, then. Though if one were to be technical, your sister has missed the previous last few years."

"How could you know that just from three words?" I ask, an exasperated smile on my face. I know she's going to answer me. And she does not disappoint.

"Older siblings tend to be protective of their younger siblings, especially when the older sibling is a brother and the younger sibling is a sister. It's a natural reaction."

"You speak like you've got experience in the matter." I said. I don't know where this is coming from, but maybe it's because she's starting to annoy me with her mystic shtick. I notice Anaya frantically waving for me to knock it off, but I don't care. "Got kids of your own?"

"…I do." Samara said, and that hesitation is all I need. "I am a mother."

"Are you proud of them?" I asked.

"I am proud of my daughters Falere and Rila." Samara said after a moment of silence.

"That's good." I said, taking another puff on my cigarette. Neither of us are making eye contact, and yet there isn't really any tension that I can sense.

"Uh, I'm not gonna lie. You two are starting to freak me out." Anaya said. "I'm gonna go make a pot of coffee. But, mostly, I'm terrified that one of you is going to say the wrong thing and there's gonna be blood everywhere. So I'm gonna step away from that." She gets up from her desk and starts to walk away.

"There is nothing to fear, Detective." Samara said. "I am rather enjoying Jonathan's company, and I am sure he is enjoying mine even if he is loathe to admit it." She looks me in the eye. "Do you mind being called Jonathan?"

"Yeah, usually." I said. "But you're a Justicar. Call me whatever the fuck you want."

"You flatter me with that trust." Samara said, a faint smile on her lips. "Jonathan it is, then."

There's a few moments of silence. The detective left for the break room, like she said. That just leaves me and the Justicar.

"Are you proud of your sister?" Samara asked. "She seems to be a remarkable woman."

"She deserves every award she's gotten and none of the scorn." I said. "She's the one deserving of our name."

"Do not sell yourself short." Samara said. "I am sure that you have done things that your family is proud of, too."

I pause. Something stirs in me. It might be tears. I look away.

"I haven't always done things that I'm proud of, Justicar."

"Samara is fine."

"Okay then Just-Samara."

"It is quite alright, Jonathan." She said, sitting down and criss-crossing her legs in a meditative stance. Her eyes start glowing a pale blue. "Everyone has demons."

…

" _Bro?_ "

Sis is in my TeamCom headset. It's a rather startling sound, and Samara briefly looks over to see what has made me so jumpy. I clear my throat.

"What's up, Sis?" I asked.

" _I…I need your perspective._ " She said. I chuckle.

"That's awfully…specific." I said. "What exactly do you need my advice on?"

I hear a commotion in the background. But it's not that loud. Someone shouting something.

" _We've got an Asari Eclipse merc here. Captured alive. Name's Elnora."_

"Okay." I said. "That's…not a lot to go on, Sis."

" _I know."_ Sis said. " _You were always the better one at reading shifty people. You know me, I always think the best of people._ "

Oh man. I know where this is going.

"Okay, so what's the problem?"

" _Her name's Elnora. She said that she didn't fire her weapon at us once. Claims that the Eclipse sisters were watching so she had to pretend. She said she got in over her head and she doesn't want to be a merc anymore. She's…oh man, she's crying now. What do you think? What should I do?_ "

She's fully capable of making a decision by herself. Maybe she just feels bad about leaving me behind with Samara, who is currently meditating. I clear my throat.

"I would ki-"

I stop myself. I'm right. If it were me, I'd kill the bitch. I know she's lying. Sis most likely knows she's lying. And that Asari Elnora is probably making crocodile tears as I think. It would be easy to just put a slug in her brain and end it all. One less to worry about.

But that's not how Sis would do it.

"Just…just let her go." I said.

A pause.

" _You sure?_ "

"Yeah, I'm sure. No need to waste a bullet." I said. "Though make sure Zaeed properly scares her off."

" _I can do that._ " I hear a commotion, a girlish squeal, and then a throaty chuckle that has to belong to our one-eyed mercenary. Sis checks back in. " _Okay, she's gone. Tell Samara that we're close to finding out what we need to know._ "

"Okay, Sis. See you soon."

The TeamCom turns off.

I turn around to see that Samara is staring directly at me.

"That was a rather noble decision you made." Samara said. "Not many people would be so merciful in that situation."

"Yeah, well, I bet she was lying." I said. Samara's expression does not change.

"If that is the truth, then why let her go?"

"Because…because there's no way to prove that. And at the end of the day, Sis had her lined up with several rifle barrels pointed at her. There's a difference between shooting someone and executing someone. Sis doesn't need to execute someone and have that on their conscience."

Not like me.

…

Some time passes. Samara is still meditating. Anaya is taking quite a bit of time in the break room. Most likely to prevent any unnecessary interaction with the Justicar. And I'm leaning against the desk, finishing off the last of my cigarette.

"How long have you been smoking?"

I realize that Samara is looking at me. I shrug.

"About…I wanna say ten years ago. Started it a little bit when I joined the Alliance grunts. I guess I never quit. I hate cigarettes, though."

"Then why are you currently smoking one?"

Damn. She has a good point.

"Because I don't have a cigar on me." I admit. "I prefer cigars."

"Is there any difference?" Samara asked. "Both give nicotine. Both are highly addictive."

"There's something…better about a good cigar." I said. "Cigarettes you can just bum through without really thinking about it. They're not that special. Kind of the oral equivalent of fast food." I shrug. "But a good cigar…it's commemorative, I guess. It can stamp a memory on something. You can think back to the last time you had one with friends or family…in a way, I guess I smoke cigars because I like to remember."

"What do you like to remember?"

I take a deep breath.

"I remember that my father used to smoke them, every now and then."

Admitting that is like getting a big weight off of my chest.

"Rather poetic, in a sense." Samara said. "I have rarely heard such a defense of cigars." She smiles slightly. "Like I said: you might not give yourself enough credit, Jonathan."

I shrug. But there's something about the way she says that that makes me feel better.

I glance out over the veranda, and I see something. It's an Asari, which isn't that unusual. What _is_ somewhat unusual is the fact that she's wearing just an undershirt and black pants, like she'd been wearing something over that and had recently taken it off. She's skittish too, looking around to see if anyone is looking at her.

" _Fuck!_ "

I press a hand to my TeamCom.

"Sis, what's wrong?"

" _We were wrong, Bro. Elnora's the murderer of that Volus merchant that Anaya is investigating. I just found a holo-journal and it's just her bragging about blowing the Volus apart. We had her, trusted her, and now she's gonna fucking disappear!_ "

I look at the Asari out on the veranda. I take a deep breath. I hope Sis gets back in time before the cops get me…or Samara.

"No she isn't." I say, turning off my TeamCom.

The Asari girl looks towards me, and her eyes widen in fear when we make eye contact.

"Please, you gotta help me!" She hisses, and she takes cover behind a crate. I walk up to her, and hold up my arms gently.

"Relax. I'm not gonna kill you." I said.

She's still smiling when I draw one of my Carnifex pistols and fire a slug into her kneecap. She clutches at the joint and crumples to the ground, wailing in pain. I step on the wound, which only makes her howl louder.

"What the fuck is your name!" I shout.

"Ellllllnorrraa!" The Asari wailed.

"Why the fuck are you running?" I shout. "What's the big rush, Elnora? Why-"

And that's when I feel the pistol pointed to the back of my neck.

"Lay down your weapon, Jonathan."

I chuckle despite myself.

"Fuck, you are fast. Were you following me the whole time, Samara?" I ask.

"I knew as soon as you started moving that you were seeking to intercept this Asari, now lay down your weapon." Samara said. "If you do not comply, I will not hesitate to act."

"This is the murderer, Samara." I said. "This is the girl that they're looking for. Sis found her holo-journal." By now, I can see that the other Asari cops are circling, and a very-pissed Anaya is front and center. "This is the murderer of Pitne For's business partner."

"Be that as it may, if you pull the trigger now you will be no better than she was." Samara said quietly. "You will be executing a helpless individual who is your inferior. The fact that she may or may not be a murderer is irrelevant. What matters is what is happening right now. You are a better man than this, Jonathan."

"Am I, Samara?" I asked quietly. By now, I feel like I can see another group of people coming and I'll bet that it's Sis and the gang. "I'm a pretty rotten person. Done some pretty horrible things. Why should I believe that I'm better than this?"

"Because I have faith in the Goddess that you are." Samara said quietly.

Fuck. She played the religion card.

It isn't what makes me holster my gun, though. In the end, I just feel…tired. So I sigh, eject the heat sink to let everyone know that I'm unarmed, and then holster my pistol. Everyone else relaxes, and I feel the gun against my head go away. I turn to Anaya.

"Take me in, if you have to."

"I just want this night to end." Anaya said. "As far as I'm concerned, little miss killer here took a bullet trying to escape from the Commander and her crew." She turned to Elnora. "You're under arrest for the murder of Jamais Vu."

"What?" Elnora shouted. "You have no proof!"

At that moment, Sis stepped forward. She pressed a button on her omnitool, and we heard a voice.

" _Well it's official – little baby Elnora is finally a full-fledged Eclipse merc! I earned my uniform last night when I killed that ridiculous Volus._ _Up close, exploding rounds…Blew the little bastard's suit wide open! Hah! I can't wait to see some real action! Next time I go home, my friends are going to be so jealous!_ "

"Action, huh?" Anaya asked, gazing at Elnora with a rather superior look. "I think I can cook something up for you…though it's less of merc action and more of a 'find whatever ways to kill time behind bars while you stare at a wall and try not to go insane' kind of action." She smirks. "Book her, Dani!"

One Asari cop forcibly grabs Elnora and ignores her howls of pain. As they lead her off, Samara turns to Sis and smiles.

"Thank you for that, Commander Shepard."

"You're welcome, Samara." Sis said. "But I also got the name of your ship. Your fugitive left here two days ago on the AML _Demeter._ "

"Shepard, you impress me." Samara said, her eyes widening. "You fulfilled your end of the bargain…and I will fulfill mine." She turns to Anaya, who is busy cuffing Elnora. "I will be leaving immediately if that will satisfy your superiors."

"You're free to go." Anaya said. "It has been an honor having you in my station, Justicar…and it's nice that you didn't kill me, too."

Samara turns to Sis.

"I must swear myself to your service so that I must never be forced to choose between your orders and the Code."

Her eyes glowed white, and she knelt before Sis like a knight.

"By the Code, I will serve you, Shepard. Your choices are my choices. Your morals are my morals. Your wishes are my code." She flashes blue in both biotics and some mysterious power, and then it's gone. She looks at Sis. "If you make me do anything extremely dishonorable, I may be forced to kill you when I finish my service to you."

"I am not an immoral person." Sis said. "And I am honored that you would choose to fight by my side." She turns to Anaya. "I also found proof that Pitne For was smuggling red sand and illegal weapons into Nos Astra." She tosses a holopad towards the detective.

"Two for one." Anaya said with a tired smile. "This has probably been the most active day of my career, and considering how long it's been…that's saying something." She smiles. "I can't do much to thank you, but we do have a discretionary bounty fund so…" With a few presses of a button, a rather hefty sum of credits is wired into Sis' bank account.

"Okay, everyone." Sis said. "Let's make our way back to the Normandy. We need to figure things out about how to recruit our next agent. That's all I can say for now. Dismissed!" The others start to leave. "Bro, wait."

Ah, shit.

"I will take my leave and follow the others, Shepard." Samara said. She looks at me, and gives me a small smile. I don't know what it means, but it's there nonetheless. Sis leads me away from the detective's office, and as soon as we're out of earshot she speaks up.

"You probably knew that Elnora was bad all along didn't you?" She asked. I shrug.

"In my experience, there's no such thing as an 'innocent' merc that deep into headquarters."

"Fair enough. But why didn't you sign off on me just shooting her then. It would have saved a lot of time and effort."

I wince. I know where this is coming from.

"Janey…" I say, struggling for the words. "I know that you're hurting about…about Liara." She stiffens, but doesn't say anything. "But the answer to that isn't to just become…cold to everything. That's not gonna do you any good. And you advocating just executing someone? That isn't you. It just isn't. I've already got the baggage of the rotten things I've done. And…and I don't want you to feel like that's the only option. Keep fighting. Things will get better. Who knows? Maybe Liara…" I trail off.

"Maybe Liara what?" Sis asked.

"Maybe Liara's just playing a role." I said. "I can't imagine anyone that would fall for you would so easily divorce themselves from their feelings." I chuckle. "I've had to talk you through a couple of girls, but never an Asari before. Though I suppose Cecilia had blue hair."

"John, she _dyed_ it."

"Doesn't count, huh?" I asked, watching as the smile formed on her face despite herself. "Not even partial credit."

"Nope." Sis said. But now she's smiling a bit again. "That doesn't count." She sighs and looks off into the night. "I hope you're right about Liara. I know I've thrown the words around a few times but…I love Liara. And it hurt so bad not to be able to just pick things up right from where they left off." She sighs. "We should probably get going. The others are going to wonder where we've gotten off to." She looks at me and smiles a bit. "You ready?"

I nod.

"Right with you, Sis."

A/N: That's right. Samara is awesome in and of herself, and I enjoy writing her…but just for fun (and with little to no prompting from canon) I decided that her centuries of work as a Justicar have made her…essentially an Asari Sherlock. You now have the theme to "Sherlock" stuck in your head. You're welcome.


	20. The Assassin

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

It wasn't tense, but the air was somewhat charged all the same. There's a big difference between silences. Sometimes the silence is sorrowful. Sometimes it's contemplative. And sometimes it's…this. Restless. It puts me on edge.

Perhaps part of it is the Asari next to me. Samara is seated at the bench beside me, her hands rested in her lap, with one leg crossed over the other. Her expression is utterly serene, and she looks forward into the crowd of people in front of us, her face utterly blank. It's impossible to know what she is thinking right now, or if she even _is_ thinking. Every now and then people make eye contact with her and scurry away. Either they know that she's the real thing or she's just a fanboy cosplaying as a Justicar, but whatever the reason they decide that they don't want to mess with her. I don't blame them.

Sis is off to the side, talking to Liara over her omnitool. It's…well, it isn't lovey-dovey but it seems a little bit less frosty than I would have expected. Maybe there's something about the way they're talking to each other, where they can sense that things are alright even if they never explicitly or implicitly tell one another that that is the case. Sometimes we can just sense the air around us and those we love, and know when things are alright.

But right now that just leaves me with the Justicar. Zaeed went off with Kasumi back to the ship, and Sis put in a transfer request for Grunt and Miranda to join up with us. So we're stuck in transition, waiting both for Sis to finish talking to Liara about our next mission as well as the other members of the squad to arrive.

Samara doesn't seem interested in talking right now. So I reach into my pocket, fish out my iDroid, and wire it to my TeamCom earpiece. Might as well listen to some tunes while we kill time. I shuffle for the playlist that Zaeed sent me, and with a sigh select the first song on the list.

 _We passed upon the stair_

 _We spoke of was and when_

 _Although I wasn't there_

 _He said I was his friend_

"Do you listen to music often?"

Samara's question jars me out of my reverie. I flit my eyes over towards her, slightly annoyed that she interrupted me, but at the same time I press the volume button a few times so that I can hear her better. I look at her and shrug.

"Every now and then." I said. "I used to listen to it a lot when I was done with missions or even before."

"I do not begrudge that decision." Samara said. "Music can be a wonderful way to settle the mind for the task at hand." She looks at me with those shiny blue eyes of hers. "Do you mind if I see that?" She nods towards my iDroid. Reflexively, I hesitate. But then I figure that if I don't, she might beat me to death and take it anyway. It doesn't do to anger a Justicar.

I hand the device over, and I have to admit that she is quite gentle as she holds it in her hands.

"Interesting." She said, examining the iDroid as though it was an amusing curio. "The holographic interface is rather advanced, despite being limited to a physical device. And I imagine the resolution is sound." She presses a button, and I see that she's accessed the map feature. "My suspicions are proven correct." There's a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Rather curious that you are still so hesitant to take up an omnitool. I imagine that using one of these takes longer than using an omnitool."

"I wouldn't know." I said. "I've never really used an omnitool long enough to compare." I smile a bit, despite myself. "Sis always called me kind of stubborn."

"I can sympathize." Samara said. "My way of life is considered archaic by many. So, if you think about, I suppose I am little different from this device." She looks at me. I shrug.

"I dunno. You can think. You're alive."

"If we wanted to be technical, so too is this device. In a way, it can 'think.' The fact that the press of a button turns it 'on' could in turn suggest that it is 'alive.'"

"Okay, let's stop with the metaphysics before you _really_ start weirding me out."

"As you wish, Jonathan."

…

Finally, Sis comes over. At around the same time, Miranda and Grunt arrive.

"Greetings, Venom." Grunt said, making eye contact with me. "I look forward to seeing if you can match me in battle. Unlikely, but a good myth to live up to, all the same." I have to smile at the Krogan's hubris. The guy can't be older than a week and yet he acts as though he's the greatest fighter in existence. Miranda just looks at him, and then at me, and then sighs.

"I had to drag him away from some street competitions." She said. "I felt like his mother. 'No Grunt, you cannot challenge that Turian to an arm-wrestling match.' 'No Grunt, you cannot demand that Salarian fight you 'in real life' because he looked at you funny.' 'No Grunt, you cannot lift the scaffolding that the dancers were using as a benchpress.'"

"But it would have added to the excitement." Grunt said. It sounded like he was being…petulant? "Dancing is boring. Deadlifting dancers is humorous." He then lets out a slow little chuckle. "Heh…heh…heh…" It's both unsettling and hilarious at the same time.

"See what I've been dealing with?" Miranda asked, looking at me. I shrug.

"Well, you do have a bit of a motherly feel to you, Miranda. I guess I'm not surprised."

There's that look in her eyes again. On one hand, she smiles slightly, clearly flattered by the flippant compliment yet not wanting to betray to the rest of the team that she has a heart…and yet at the same time there's an infinite sadness in her eyes, like there's something that she's hiding. I don't know what it is, but it's unsettling.

"Okay, 'mom.'" Sis said, drawing Miranda's and the rest of our attention to her. "I just got off the phone with Liara. Our next potential recruit is on Illium, and in Nos Astra. I've got good news and bad news. What do you want to hear first?"

"The only bad news is if there are no enemies to kill." Grunt growled.

"Behave, Grunt." Miranda chided. She was looking exasperated, like a soccer mom whose kids had just discovered sugar. It was kind of funny. But I bet she'd biotically close my throat if I said anything, so I kept a lid on it.

"Good news first, then." Sis said. "It's the quality of our recruit. His name is Thane Krios. He is a Drell assassin, and is very, _very_ capable."

"Ah, Thane Krios. I remember him." Samara said, drawing the rest of our attention. "I have encountered Mr. Krios in the past." She looked at Sis, a pensive expression on her face. "What does your contact Liara say about him?" Sis shrugged.

"Just that he is good. And the same with the Illusive Man's dossier. There's really, really not much to go on about him. It's a wonder that we even have his name."

"As I expected." Samara said. "Thane was always meticulous in leaving as little a trace as possible. He is very professional…and oddly gravitating, in a sort of way. I enjoyed working with him."

"You _worked_ with him?" I asked. Samara nodded.

"Yes. I was pursuing a fugitive of justice, and it just so turned out that the man sheltering my fugitive was a target of Thane's. We co-operated on the mission, and it was very successful. An entertaining story, I imagine. But now is not the time for telling."

"You mentioned that there was bad news." Miranda said, no doubt to steer the conversation back on track. "What is it?"

"Well, it's twofold." Sis said. "He's in Nos Astra because he's working a job. He's contracted to assassinate a high ranking Asari executive." Sis frowned. "It's doubly bad news because I know this Asari. Nassana Dantius." She cleared her throat. "There was an Asari worker in the vicinity that Thane contacted to help him with his job. We should find her and see what she knows."

…

"Shepard, if I may."

"Go ahead, Samara."

"How do you know Nassana?"

We're walking in a v-shape formation down the street, and we must be quite a sight: a resurrected woman leading the charge, flanked by a genetically enhanced woman of stunning features and my raggedy ass, and further flanked by a massive Krogan and an Asari Justicar. I dared anyone to fuck with us.

"I met her two years ago. She asked me to help her with a mission." Sis began. "She said that her sister had been kidnapped by space pirates, and were demanding a ludicrous sum of money as a ransom. She wanted me to rescue her sister, because the Dantius family couldn't afford to make the payment or take the hit to their reputation."

"The way you're telling this story, Sis, it sounds like there's a real Hitchcock involved here."

"I am afraid I am unfamiliar with that phrase." Samara said.

"I don't know it either, and I'm human." Miranda said. "What do you mean?"

"He means that there's a twist coming." Sis said. "Bro and I can quote movies and shit back and forth all day. And he's right: it turned out that the reason Nassana wanted this all hush-hush was because her sister was the _leader_ of the pirate gang, and she was blackmailing her sister for money at the risk of exposing to the galaxy that the Dantius family had one hell of a black sheep in the family. So I was the unwitting savior of Nassana's public image when her sis refused to come quietly." She sighed. "I was compensated with what I would describe as a sacrilegious amount of money. I donated almost all of it."

Samara was silent for a time. And then she spoke.

"That does sound like something that Nassana would do."

"And now she's on Illium." I said. "This place is just like Omega, only cleaner." I spit bitterly into the ground, drawing a rather dirty look from one of the Asari cops walking by. I don't give a shit. I'm just doing my part in contributing to the gilded clean that covers this place.

Eventually, we reach a terminal, where an Asari is working behind the desk. She flits her eyes up towards us, but then returns to her typing at the desk. It is quite clear that she does not want to be disturbed.

"Seryna?" Sis asked.

"Who wants to know?" The Asari replied, though she still didn't look up from her terminal. Clearly this lady was involved in a few shady things on the side. Anyone who asked that question was either a kid who'd watched too many crime flicks…or someone who was more than capable of some dark shit. Sis smirked.

"Call me Shepard. A mutual friend of ours said that you might have information on someone that I'm looking for."

At this, Seryna stops typing. She looks up at Sis, and the rest of us, and narrows her eyes.

"Is that so? And to whom might you be referring to?" At this, I see her hands slide down out of sight.

Before anyone can react, I pull out a Carnifex and aim it at her head.

"John!" Sis snarls. I don't hear her.

"I hope that's a sandwich you're reaching for, Seryna." I growl. "Because whatever it is, I'm gonna make you eat it."

Seryna stares at me coldly, and slowly brigns her hand back up into sight. She's holding a Predator pistol, though she hadn't had time to get the safety off.

"From Liara T'Soni with love." Sis said. "Where's Thane Krios?" At the mention of Liara's name, Seryna seems to relax a little bit.

"Can you blame me for the preparation?" Seryna asked. "It's not easy being a CI for an information broker here on Illium, especially for someone that is as new to the game as Miss T'Soni. You have to work extra hard to make sure the established players don't eat you alive." She crosses her arms across her chest, clearly displaying that she isn't swayed by the pistol I'm pointing in her face. "Gimme a second." She turns to the Asari next to her. "Tana. Cover for me."

The other Asari silently nods, and Seryna leads us off to the side.

"Yeah, I know who Thane Krios is." Seryna began. "I might have passed him some information, but I didn't hire him."

"I doubt you could with the salary this job offers." Miranda deadpans. Sis leers at her, but I have trouble keeping a straight face. Since Sis made me put my gun away, the best I can do is look like a bored goon.

"What do you wanna know?" Seryna asked.

"Maybe help me find him." Sis said. Straight to the point.

Seryna scoffed.

"I can _tell_ you, but you won't stop him." She cleared her throat. "When he contacted me, I checked up on him. The man never gives up on a job. I ran security for Nassana Dantius…"

"Here we go…" Miranda muttered.

"And then I found out that she was having people killed to cover up her dirty secrets." Seryna continued. "She fired me when I confronted her. Her loss. I might have been good enough to stop Thane from taking her down."

"I'm surprised, given the fact that you confronted her with the knowledge that she was killing loose ends, that she didn't _literally_ fire you. With a gun." I said. Seryna smirked.

"Baby, this is Illium. Everyone knows someone who knows someone. I'm pretty damn connected myself. If I went down mysteriously, then someone who's a bigger fish in the pond might start asking Nassana questions. And she's already skating on thin ice as is. No, it's far less difficult to just can my ass."

"So if you worked there, then you must have an idea of what his opposition will be." Sis said, clearly steering the conversation back on track.

"Eclipse mercs. High tech weaponry. They're undisciplined but _very_ well equipped. Thane has quite a reception waiting for him. I told him what I knew…he didn't seem worried."

"The fact that they are undisciplined most likely reassured him." Samara said. "An army could not stop Thane if they did not have the proper training. And even then…" She trailed off.

"I should like to meet this 'Thane Krios,' if he is truly as mighty a warrior as he sounds." Grunt said, a devilish smirk on his lips.

"So where is he?" Sis asked.

"Most likely working his way through the Dantius Towers." Seryna pointed to two _very_ large towers that were a stone's throw away from each other. "He'll be aiming for Tower One's penthouse level. That's where Nassana works out of. And that's where she'll be holed up. There's a second tower that's currently under construction. If Thane is smart, and he _is,_ then he'll go in through there."

"I doubt that Nassana is just going to let me waltz in." Sis said.

"No doubt." Seryna said. "I can get you in through the second tower, but you're only going to get one shot at this. Things are going to be hairy enough with the guards looking for Thane."

"Wait, you're offering us your help, no strings attached?" Sis asked suspiciously. "What do you stand to gain from this?"

"Directly, nothing." Seryna said. "But you're looking for _Thane_. Despite his job, he is a good-hearted man. A total gentleman. The fact that you'll be raising hell in the towers most likely means that you'll give him a free pass at Nassana. I didn't hire the man, but I won't shed a single tear when she gets what's coming to her."

"Who did hire Thane?" Sis asked. Seryna shrugged.

"That's the thing. He wasn't. He told me that he's doing this job on his own time, and on his own dime. He said he needed to 'restore the balance to his life,' which was poetic but a little bit overwrought if you ask me."

"Let's do this." Sis said. Clearly she wasn't bothered by the fact that we were dealing with an assassin either so flush or so morally pious that he didn't mind infiltrating and then killing on his own dime and time. Seryna smiled.

"Good. I was getting tired of standing around here just talking. Meet me here tonight. We'll go to Tower Two when the shift ends for the workers."

…

The sun has set as our skycar gently lifts off and begins its trek to the Dantius Towers. Seryna is driving, while Sis is sitting shotgun. Miranda, Grunt and I are wedged in the back. Samara sits on the floor, her legs criss-crossed in a meditative position. It's a little unsettling but at least she isn't hogging any undue space on this thing.

"The towers are heavily guarded and you'll find more resistance closer to the penthouse." Seryna said. She looked at Sis. "So this assassin…you planning to stop him?"

I waited for Sis' response. She was the kind of person to say yes, to take the forever high road.

"I'm just there to make sure that he survives."

That…wasn't quite the response I expected.

We weave in and out of traffic, and soon the two symbols of Asari decadence are in plain view.

"There they are: the Dantius Towers." Seryna said. "You'll have to get up to the second tower bridge to reach the first tower penthouse. Her mercs will fight you every step of the way, but it's your best shot."

"If they're bunkered in for a fight…" Sis began. She turned around and smirked at the Krogan next to me. "…Then it's a good thing that I brought my bunker-buster, huh?"

Grunt racks his shotgun with a cartoonishly gleeful face.

"Heh…heh…heh…"

"Alright, I'm taking you guys in. Be ready." Seryna cuts hard to the left, diverting off of traffic and right towards the Dantius Towers. She settles the car down on a veranda outside. The wind is blowing slightly as we exit the vehicle. Seryna watches us get out of the car, and then gestures towards the tower. "Be sure to move quickly. They're gonna know something is up."

"We're ready for them." Sis said, racking a shotgun of her own. Seryna smiles slightly.

"I think you really are. Good luck, Shepard."

The car door closes, and she flies away into the night. Sis watches after her, and then motions for us to follow her.

"Eyes open." She said. We draw our weapons and fall into place. As we creep towards the door, I glance over to the left, towards the interior of the building.

"Jesus _Christ!_ " I manage to snarl.

There's a group of Salarians running away from LOKI and FENRIS mechs. Some of them get away. Some of them aren't so lucky. But we can hear their screams. I can hear them wailing through the ringing in my ears.

 _They had dropped their weapons, and had run away in a blind panic. That didn't save them. The smell of oil and fire burned in the air as they were cut down one after another._

"Engage!" Sis shouted, and that was the cue for the rest of us to start firing on the mechs. They stopped their pursuit of the unarmed Salarians, and began to fire upon us. I scored a direct hit right in the head of one of them, and clipped the leg of another LOKI mech. A FENRIS charged towards me, a mechanical snarl in its audio processor. It got close to me, and then with a calm shot I put a hole through its head and out through where its tail should be. There were only a few of these mechs out here, but now they were all gone. Sis scanned ahead of us, her eyes wide.

"Move up! We have to find the workers."

…

There isn't much left of them in the hallway. Most are dead, their faces twisted in screams and terror right before the bullets cut them down. Blood everywhere. I put the back of my hand to my mouth, as if stifling a choking. The smell is awful.

 _We'd chased them out of one of the houses, and eventually Jax was brave enough to peer inside to see what they'd left behind. He ran back out and doubled over, puking his guts out. I was the next one in. They'd left behind civvies…with pieces small enough to fit in a matchbox._

"Help…" One of the Salarians was still alive. There was blood all over him. "…Help." He managed to squeak out.

"He's alive, but barely." Miranda said. At the sound of this, Samara got down on one knee and placed a hand on the Salarian's cheek.

"Shh…" She whispered. "Be at peace. We come to help." She slowly turned her head back towards the rest of us. "Does anyone have medigel? He has lost a lot of blood."

"I do." I find myself speaking. I was the better doctor than Sis was, and I'd seen that she'd had some medigel prepped as well. I dispensed it from a cartridge inside my iDroid, and began to spread it over the wounded area…which seemed to be his entire pelvic area. Samara was staring him in the eye, gently encouraging him to breathe. Sis stood over the three of us, and I could feel the righteous fury and sorrow radiating off of her.

"Who did this to you?" Sis asked. "And _why?_ "

"We're just…night workers!" The Salarian wheezed. "And Nassana…she sent them after us. They sent the mechs to round us up but…we didn't hear…they just started shooting…"

"Medigel's taking." I said. We weren't out of the woods yet for this guy, but with some luck he'd be able to feel his lower body in a few minutes.

"They just attacked you?" Sis asked.

"The mercs said…they said there wasn't any time…that we needed to be removed…immediately!" The Salarian was starting to cry. "So much screaming, so much…and then…the dogs…!" The Salarian's breathing is steadying, but now he is sobbing. Samara reaches forward and gently gives him a hug, not caring that blood is now transferring onto her armor.

 _He sat there in the corner of the room, his mouth covered by a gloved hand. His face whiter than snow. "What are our orders sir?" I scream them in his ear, but I know that he doesn't hear anything. He breathes in and out, and he stares ahead as though I am not there. The bile rises in my throat as I can practically see the golden oak leaves on his shoulders wither away before my eyes. He keeps that expression long after the medics carry him off the front line._

"Nassana is getting desperate." Miranda said. "She's cornered, out of options, and just flailing out at anything that gets too close." She shook her head. "We had to deal with a few assets and enemies going out the same way. It means that the way ahead is quite messy."

The Salarian gets back up to his feet.

"Thank…thank you. The medigel is kicking in. I'll be alright. I'll…I'll be alright." He steadies himself. "Please, you must save the other workers. If they were doing that to us, the _night workers_ , I…I won't think about what they're doing to the main custodial staff above us."

"How do we get to the penthouse of Tower One?" Sis asked.

"Take that service elevator behind you to the upper levels of this tower." The Salarian said. "It will make it quicker to reach the bridge between the towers. It's unfinished but…if you're careful, you should be safe." He staggered over to a phone terminal. "I'm going to call the police. They need to know what was going on here."

"I agree." Sis said. And then she looked like she'd had an idea. "Hey, EDI?"

" _Yes, Commander?_ "

"If the police get here, they're probably going to eventually see the security footage of the place. Can you retroactively go back and wipe our presence from any visual footage in either building?"

" _It will take some time, but I can do that. Without a trace._ "

Not bad for a talking lightbulb.

…

The elevator carried us up to one of the higher floors in the tower. However, as luck would have it, the door opened to a room full of Eclipse mercs.

Luckily, they weren't expecting us, if their startled cursing was any indication. And then Grunt charged right into the center of them, roaring like a demon and firing his shotgun like a maniac. I might have gotten off one round, but he did the heavy lifting.

"That's…wel, at least we know that Okeer didn't half-ass his work." Miranda said. I nodded.

"He's saving me ammo, that's for sure."

Sis checked the room for any survivors, and then gestured for us to follow her. As we entered a doorway, we were treated to the sight of several cowering Salarian workers.

"Please don't kill us!" One of them wailed. "We're leaving, we're leaving!" But then he hesitated. "Wait…they're not Eclipse mercs."

"Are you here to help us?" One of them asked Sis.

"That's one of my main reasons, yes." Sis said. She lowered her pistol. "Come on out. It's safe enough."

"Thank you." The leader of the Salarians said. "We are in your debt."

"Well, I'm flattered, but I don't need that." Sis said. "How about for repayment you just help me a little bit. I'm looking for someone. Not an Eclipse merc. He's…he's on his own."

One of the Salarians scratched his head.

"Well, there was this one man…he didn't kill us. He just herded us into this room and then locked the door after us. I…I don't think that he wanted us to get hurt."

"That's sweet." Miranda said somewhat drily. "We've got ourselves an assassin with a heart of gold."

"Thane would never allow an innocent life to come to harm during one of his missions." Samara said. "It is part of why I admired him so much during our short time together."

"Assassin?" One of the Salarians asked, somewhat fearfully.

"I bet he's here for Nassana." Another one drily commented. "She's got it coming. When you treat people like this, it always comes back to bite you in the ass."

"I don't disagree." Sis said. "I've had dealings with her in the past. But I need to get to her penthouse. What's the fastest way to the top?"

"The cargo elevator is the only thing working right now." One of the workers said. "But be careful. Most of the walls aren't finished and it's a little unstable up there."

"This whole place is unstable." Miranda said with some degree of disgust. "If Nassana designed the building, she should be ashamed."

From there, we wished the workers well, and then went about our way to the elevator. There was a small mercenary group defending it, but they went down easily. The Krogan bounty hunter with them was another matter.

But then again, that's why we had Grunt.

The tank-born managed to get within striking distance of the bounty hunter, and then cracked the beast across the nose with the butt of his shotgun. From there, he grabbed the Krogan by the waist and flipped him upside down. And as God is my witness, he dropped the bounty hunter right on his head with a piledriver that shook the floorboard.

"REST IN PEACE!" Grunt bellowed, thumping his chest. We all looked at each other, and then I cleared my throat.

"Who was it that thought letting him watch wrestling vids was a good idea?" I asked.

"They _were_ a good idea." Sis said somewhat gleefully. "Did you _see_ that?"

From there, we loaded into the cargo elevator and it took us even further into the sky.

…

"I haven't heard from either team Four or team Five."

Somehow we came across a merc on conference call by the window wall. He was totally oblivious to our presence as the elevator door hissed open.

"Don't worry. My team is always ready to go."

He must have been talking to his boss. As if unable to believe our extraordinary luck, Sis frantically waved us to silently follow her towards the back of this unsuspecting schlub. I felt like Elmer Fudd. Be vewwy vewwy quiet. We're huntin' a shithead.

"I don't know where he is. Not yet. Don't worry about it. No, we don't need reinforcements."

He's clearly talking about Thane. And from the slightly exasperated tone in his voice, he is clearly talking to Nassana.

"It's under control. I'll take care of it myself."

Oh god, I think Sis might burst from the sadistic glee that is radiating off of her right now. Somehow she keeps her voice steady as she speaks.

"Turn around. Real slowly."

The merc freezes, and then does as she asks. He looks at Sis, and then he looks back and forth to see the rest of us. His shoulders slump.

" _Fuck._ "

"Have you seen the assassin?" Sis asked, slowly walking towards the merc. He's backing away towards the glass. It doesn't look very thick.

"Why are you looking for him?" The merc asked. "You're not one of Nassana's mercs. Who are you?"

"Let's make a deal." Sis said. "You answer my questions, and I let you go."

"Look pal, even if I knew where he was, I wouldn't tell you."

He's brave. Stupid, but brave all the same.

"Not the answer I was looking for." Sis said, this time stepping close enough that the merc has his back resting gently against the glass.

"If you shoot me, my team's right there beyond that doorway." The merc said, crossing his arms. "They'll be all over you." He then shook his head. "So I've got nothing more to say to you, cunt."

I grab him by the scruff of his neck.

"How about goodbye?"

I give him a sharp, short kick.

His screams fade away as he tumbles into the abyss below. I stare after him, ignoring the look I'm getting from Sis to my right. Miranda is the one that breaks the silence.

"Was that…necessary?" She asked. I shrug.

"Dude deserved it. Back to a glass wall, bottomless drop below, and then he calls the woman giving him a lifeline _that?_ While her brother is right here?" I look at Miranda and shrug. "I did the gene pool a favor culling that bastard."

"Commander, that was impossibly reckless, even for your brother." Miranda said. Sis looked at her, and then looked at me. And then she sighed.

"I wish you weren't quicker on the draw than I was." Sis said. "I would've done it myself."

…

After some time, we enter another room with Salarians hiding. The only difference is that this one in the middle has a gun.

"Stay back! Stay back or I'll shoot!" He wailed. He's bluffing. I can see it in his eyes; he doesn't have the guts to do what's necessary. He doesn't know what it's like to end a life. "Don't make me use this!" Tears start streaming down his face as his nerve fails him. "Please…please don't make me do this."

"Hey, it's okay." Sis said. "I'm not the bad guy here. What's your name?"

"Telon…I…my name is Telon-don't come any closer!" He brandishes the gun threateningly.

"Telon, my name is Jane Shepard. I don't work with the mercs, and I'm here to help you and the other workers." She said. Telon sighes.

"Alright. Alright, here." He hands Sis the gun. "I…I don't feel so…"

He faints dead away. Out like a light.

"Telon!" Another Salarian runs up to him. "He's…Telon's my brother. I just need to make sure he's alright." He looks up at us. "Are you the ones who shot the merc?"

It's then that we notice the cold corpse of an Eclipse merc off to the side. He's dead as a doornail.

"It wasn't me." Sis said. "It wasn't your brother?"

"No." The Salarian said. "The merc found us and started yelling for us to move. We panicked, so he got louder and madder. I thought he was going to kill us, but then his head just…exploded!" The Salarian shook his head. "Telon picked up his gun…and that's when you all came in."

"Well, it's over now." Sis said. "How safe is that bridge out there?" Sis asked, gesturing to the bridge that connected us to the penthouse of Dantius Tower One. The Salarian shrugged.

"The bridge is fine. The wind is a little choppy, but nothing serious. It's the mercs that might give you some trouble."

"Trouble? Nothing troubles pure Krogan! BANZAI!" Before any of us could react, Grunt was rushing across the brudge, laughing wildly as he fired his shotgun at anything that was moving.

"Fuck!" Sis said. "Uh…take your brother and go back down the way we came, all the others mercs are dead. It should be safe. Gotta go!" Sis said. "Goddamn it, _wait Grunt!_ "

"It's like walking a crazed dog!" Miranda growled. Samara says nothing as we rush out onto the bridge and I…

…I try to ignore the fact that we're really, _really_ high up in the air right now.

I stay as close to the center of the bridge as I can, not really firing my weapon any more than I have to. The others are doing the heavy lifting, which is fine, but Grunt has them all beat. He's smashing people in the face. He's throwing them off of the bridge, and he's shooting point-blank with his shotgun. He finally dropkicks the final mercenary off of the bridge, and turns back to look at us with a loopy grin. He is covered in blood, both mercenary and his own.

"Grunt, you need a bath." Miranda said. And then she looked at me. "And you need to pick up the pace, John!"

Don't look down. Just don't. Look. Down.

…

We enter Nassana's penthouse to see her at the far end. She's got her back to us, and she's staring at the setting sun of the Illium. Most likely because she knows that it'll be the last one she ever sees. There are a few Asari commandos and a few high-ranking Eclipse mercs surrounding her. She turns around and holds up her hand.

"Wait." She takes a few steps forward. "Before you kill me…at least tell me who hired you."

Sis looks at her with both confusion and derision.

"I'm no assassin, Nassana. I told you that two years ago when you tricked me into cleaning up your sister and I'm telling you the same thing again. Besides, I'm _looking_ for an assassin. I might be the only one who can stop him."

Nassana laughs. It's humorless.

"You tear through my entire security team, decimate one of my towers, cost me _countless_ credits in damages…and you tell me that you aren't here to assassinate me?" She snarls at one of her guards. "What?"

"I heard something." The Asari replies. They're all looking up in the ceiling. Nassana visibly pales.

"Shit! Check the others entrances." She turns back towards us. "You. Stay. Put." She started directing her men to start checking other places, and in the end she never saw it coming.

He came in from the vents above, like a wraith. He was behind the Eclipse mercenary in moments, and with a silent twist he broke the man's neck. It made a dull popping noise, like cracking your knuckles. By now the others knew he was there, and he moved. He punched the next one in the throat, crushing his trachea, and then grabbed the pistol from the dying man and shot dead the two remaining commandos before they ever saw him. Futilely, Nassana Dantius tried to shoot him. He wrenched her gun arm upwards, and with his free hand fired a single round right up into her chest cavity. In the span of about three seconds…it was over.

Nassana gave a gasp for air as she expired, and he gently laid her on the command console. He folded her arms so that her hands were resting over her heart. He stared silently at his handiwork, and then bowed his head. Clasping his hands together at his chest, he closed his eyes. He did not move.

"He has not lost a step." Samara said quietly and with a great deal of respect in her voice.

Sis gingerly stepped forward. The assassin did not move, nor did he acknowledge her presence.

"I…uh…was hoping to talk to you." Sis said. The assassin briefly looked up, but did not break his stance.

"I apologize, but prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken."

He has a gravelly voice, and yet it is a pleasant baritone all the same. I expected something a little less high-borne than that accent of his, but then again I don't run into many Drell. The few I have met have clearly never taken advantage of the classical education the Hanar gave them: they were cutthroats, spoke grouchily and in slang, and boasted of their street smarts. This man was clearly a jewel of inter-species development. And yet his prayers for the Asari seemed a bit…much.

"Well, she certainly was wicked." Sis offered. Thane looked at her, and he did not smile.

"Not for her. For me." He finishes his prayer, and folds his arms back behind his back as he walks towards us. He's dressed in a subtle longcoat with a high collar, wearing a light bulletproof vest that exposes part of his upper chest. He looks like a gentleman assassin, the kind that might have competed with James Bond for Her Majesty's Secret Service. But that's another lifetime and another species ago. "The measure of an individual can be difficult to discern from actions alone." He speaks with a measured, thoughtful cadence. "Take you, for instance. All this destruction…chaos."

He gazes back towards the dead Asari on the console, and then looks at us.

"I was curious to see how far you'd go to find me." He stands resolute in front of us. "Well…here I am."

"I do want to talk to you, but how did you know I was here?" Sis asked.

"Gunfire and explosions." The assassin said. "I prefer to work quietly. If I have to fight through guards, I've made a mistake. I rarely make mistakes."

"Your confidence has not changed over the years, Thane." Samara said. The Drell gave her a light smile, as if to acknowledge her presence, but continued to pace around the room.

"You disrupted my plan, but your distraction proved invaluable." He said. Sis nodded.

"Let's cut to the chase. I need your help for a mission, Thane Krios."

"Indeed?" Thane asked. His tone was reserved, but there was no denying it. He was intrigued.

"You're familiar with the Collectors?" Sis asked.

"By reputation."

"They're abducting human colonies." Sis said. "Freedom's Progress and Horizon were their handiwork."

"I see."

Christ, he's cryptic.

"We're going after them." Sis said, finally dropping the bomb. Thane was silent for a moment, and then he spoke.

"Attacking the Collectors would require passing through the Omega-4 Relay." Thane said, turning over his shoulder to look at Sis. "No ship has ever returned from doing so."

"They said Ilos was impossible to find, too." Sis said. Thane smirked.

"A fair point. You've built a career on performing the impossible, Commander Shepard." He said. He then closed his eyes and sighed. "This was to be my last job." He took a deep breath, and I noticed that it seemed somewhat shallow. "I'm dying."

"Blessed be the Goddess to watch over you." Samara said, with a trace of sadness in her voice. Thane smiled slightly, but there was sadness in his face.

"Low survival odds don't concern me." Thane said. "The abduction of your colonists does."

"I'm sorry to hear about that, Thane." Sis said. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"If you're interested in the whats and hows, we can discuss it on your ship." Thane said. "The problem isn't contagious and it won't affect my work." He smiled. "Giving me this opportunity is good enough for condolences." He stared out into the distance. "The universe is a dark place. I'm trying to make it a little brighter before I die." He turns and faces Sis. "Many innocents died today. I wasn't fast enough, and they suffered. I must atone for that." He extended his hand towards Sis, and she gladly shook it.

"I will work for you, Shepard. No charge."

Sis smiled.

"Thank you, Thane." She then touched her TeamCom. "EDI, did you manage to scrub all traces of the team from the video feed?"

" _Affirmative, Commander. I also made sure that Mr. Krios was removed from what little footage that he was captured on. There was…not much to go on._ "

"I must be slipping, if they even caught me for a moment." Thane remarked drily.

" _However, Commander, the Nos Astra police are on their way. Miss T'Soni managed to stall them with minutiae unrelated to the scene, but I would advise making a hasty retreat from Dantius towers. The Normandy's Kodiak shuttle has already been dispatched and will be at the penthouse suite in two minutes. Be ready to leave._ "

"Thanks EDI." Sis said. She turned to the rest of us. "Grab what you can, and then be ready to go. We can't stick around, and I don't feel like getting yelled at by the Council again."

As the others start gathering supplies and other spoils, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"I apologize, but I was simply curious." It is Thane. "You bear a passing resemblance to the Commander. Are you related to her?"

"Yeah…" I finally said. "I'm her brother. Jonathan Mercer Shepard. But most just call me John."

"Fair enough." Thane extends a hand. "A pleasure to meet you, John."

I had no idea how big this meeting would be.

A/N: Happy new year! May 2016 be a year of happinees and goodwill for all of you. And as a little New Year's present, here's a long-ass chapter! Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.


	21. Stories and Thoughts over Bad Drinks

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

We left Illium later that night, shortly after Thane gather what meager belongings he'd brought with him to complete this job, and after Joker confirmed with the rather ornery traffic tower that, yes, he _was_ cleared for takeoff. But he'd better stop calling her "mission control." I don't know where Sis found the guy, but slowly and surely his cutting sense of humor is starting to win me over. Sis had managed to get a private and encrypted contact line for Liara. For "mission purposes." Right. And that time she needed me to pick her up late one night when we were teens – while she was hiding in a bush in her underwear – was because she'd "made a mistake." Sure. The only mistake made was not noticing that her soon-to-be ex had crazy eyes. I'd seen them the first time I'd laid eyes on her; it was a wonder that Sis missed them.

But I digress.

The two of us were sitting in the mess hall, and we could feel the magnetized locks disengaging and the Normandy beginning to drift in midair. I was cleaning the inside of one of my pistols, having taken off the casing and gently combing through the interior for dirt and other crap. I'd had a few misfires on Omega over the years that nearly blew my fingers off. I was lucky that it hadn't happened; now that I was capable of keeping my weapons up to speed, I wasn't about to keep tempting fate.

Sis is sitting next to me, her feet kicked up on the table. The glow of her omnitool illuminates her face with a pale blue color, and with her other hands she's typing away on the keyboard interface. There's a vacant smile on her face. She probably doesn't even realize that she's smiling. She is absolutely texting Liara right now. I can also hear the strains of a song comgin in through her earpiece. She's rocking her head gently to the beat, swaying from side to side. If I strain, I can hear the song too.

 _Oh, well I'm the type of guy who will never settle down_

 _Where pretty girls are well you know that I'm around_

 _I kiss 'em and I love 'em, 'cuz to me they're all the same_

 _I hug 'em and I squeeze but they don't even know my name!_

 _They call me the Wanderer, yeah the Wanderer._

 _I roam around around around around…_

She glances over, and sees that I'm looking at her.

"What?" She asked. I chuckle.

"Interesting song choice, Sis. Pretty fitting for your current lot in life." She scowls, clearly thinking that I'm teasing her.

"That's rich coming from the guy who listens to 80s crap. Especially that fucking weird-ass song by David Bowie."

"It's by Midge Ure."

"What. _Ever._ " Sis said, rolling her eyes. But there's a trace of a smile on her lips. She continues to silently mouth the words to the song that plays through her head, and she looks the happiest I've seen her in a while. I finish cleaning my gun, and place it back in my holster. I see that Sis isn't about to move any time soon, so I figure now is as good as any to leave her to her own devices. I hear her snicker to herself as I start walking away: Liara must have sent her something that made her smile.

I doubt that things are gonna go back to the way they were in the beginning, at least not right away, but at least when I screamed at Liara it looks like I was right: she was just playing the part. That doesn't take away the sting that Sis was no doubt feeling when they first saw each other again, but it's a start. I guess I can take that.

I'm too busy watching my Sis enjoying herself to notice that I've walked right into Miranda. Or, rather, she's the one that's walked into me. I'm about to apologize, but then I see she looks far too annoyed for someone who accidentally got bumped into. I clear my throat.

"Uh, do you need some hel-"

"My office. _Now._ " She growls. Before I can say anything, she actually grabs my wrist and drags me off to her office like I'm some sort of badly-behaved kid. Jesus, she really _is_ a mom.

…

We get into her office, and she lets go of my hand to stomp off to her desk. She finally whirls around, and crosses her arms over her chest while glaring at me.

"You are a _complete_ bastard."

For once, I have no idea what I did to deserve that line.

"What are you talking about?" I ask. She just narrows her eyes.

"Maybe this will jog your memory." She clears her throat. "It ain't braggin' if you go out and do it."

…Oh god.

"I ain't what I used to be, but who the hell is?"

…She didn't.

"They x-rayed my head and found nothing."

That did it. I have to sit down as I start laughing. This does not help matters.

"Jay Hanna Dean was a _baseball player!_ " Miranda snarls, as if I didn't already know that. "I thought you had discovered some obscure philosopher that I could read whenever I had some time off here on the Normandy, and instead you…you trick me into looking up some huckster farmboy from over two hundred years ago."

"That's not fair." I said. There's a silence. And then I speak again. "Dizzy Dean was one of the best pitchers of the 20th century, and certainly one of the funniest."

"UGH!" Miranda threw her arms up in the air. I can't help but laugh.

"Miranda, you are wound way too goddamn tight. You're gonna come apart at the seams at this rate. I mean, I didn't think you'd actually go through the trouble of looking up 'Jay Hanna Dean,' but I guess I said it because I knew you'd get worked up a bit if you didn't figure it out." I said. "Lighten up a little bit."

She sits down in her desk, her arms still crossed across her chest in a rather pouty manner.

"I don't have _time_ to lighten up. This is a critical mission, perhaps the most critical in galactic history and certainly in human history, and the Illusive Man would not be pleased if we were spending our time 'lightening up' instead of doing work." She said, though it sounded so stuffy I had trouble taking her seriously.

"Yeah…about him." I said. "Let's talk about him." Suddenly, Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"That's a remarkably sudden segue there, John. What's with the sudden interest in my employer?" She said. I just shrug.

"Consider it professional curiosity. I want to know more about this guy." At this, she just laughs.

"More likely you're plotting for ways to kill him." She said. "I saw the look in your eye when he called you 'Jonathan.' That is the look of someone who wonders whether his opponent would look better with their throat removed."

"I did threaten to choke him to death, so good observation." I quip. Miranda rolls her eyes, with a faint smile.

"It's a fool's errand. The Illusive Man is exactly as his name would suggest. He's illusive, and _elusive._ It's almost impossible to get a read on anything about him, and don't think that I haven't tried. I'm his best agent, and even I don't know what he's thinking half of the time."

"He had to have started as something." I said. "There has to be a trail."

"I'm sure that there is, but anything that I look for turns into a dead end." She said. "I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm not going to figure him out any time soon, but that doesn't bother me. He's the best and brightest that humanity has. He's our best chance at stopping the Reapers."

I snort.

"How many people do you think he's had killed to cover his tracks?" I asked, with perhaps a little bit too much of a sneer. She shakes her head.

"I wouldn't imagine many. The Illusive Man is far more…delicate than that."

"So he's had other people kill those other people?"

"That's none of my concern." Miranda said.

"It will be when he decides that you've outlived your usefulness."

At this, there's a brief flash across Miranda's eyes. To someone who wasn't looking for it, they wouldn't have noticed it. But I caught it. A brief flash of fear, like the sudden realization of an incredibly unfortunate truth.

"I'm too important to him to be considered expendable." Miranda said finally.

"I thought Cobra Unit was untouchable before Torfan."

It's out of my lips before I can stop myself. At this, Miranda suddenly looked intrigued.

"Where did that come from?" She asked. I feel cold and annoyed. I get up to walk away, knowing that I'm about a second away from a meltdown or a shutdown. I reach for her door, and press the button to open it and get out.

It's locked. She's got remote controls from her terminal. Gotta say, I'm impressed: bitch is _quick_ at typing.

"Oh no. You can't run away from any and every conversation that makes you feel uncomfortable." Miranda said. I glare at her, and she just looks somewhat proud of herself. Smug, really.

I silently reach for my iDroid.

"Don't bother. EDI and I had that thing ghosted the moment you arrived on the ship. There's no way you can hack it."

I still make a point of trying and failing to hack through the controls. Finally, I hear Miranda sigh.

"John, I'm not going to make you talk about Torfan. It's just that I feel that I've told you a bit about myself, more than most people care to ask, so I just wanted to know a little something about you. Don't you think that's fair?"

I'm silent. So she speaks again.

"I just want to know how you got onto the Cobra Unit. That was a pretty special group."

I stare at her. And I sigh.

"Make me a fucking drink, and we'll talk."

…

She picked this really fancy brandy that I totally should have expected her to choose, and yet was completely unprepared all the same. I take a sip, and then cough horribly.

"Jesus, that shit is strong." I manage to choke out.

"Well, John. That's the first thing that you should know about me." She looked awfully smug. "I only settle for the very best."

I just roll my eyes. She chuckles, and then shakes her head.

"You know, for the older brother, you are awfully childish. Your sister isn't wired like you."

"Only because she's better at hiding it." I shoot back, finally forcing down a sip of the stuff. "Believe you me, Sis has her quirks."

"Such as?" Miranda asked. I narrow my eyes.

"Turn off the recording devices."

"What recording devices?" Miranda was a terrible liar.

"The ones that you've got planted in this room. I found one in my room last night, which isn't that bad because all the Illusive Man would have gotten was Zaeed ranting about how Charles Dickens was a 'goddamned overrated writer' and that Melville is only good for putting you to sleep. But this involves my sister a little bit, and this involves _me._ So shut them off."

Miranda sighed, and then shrugged. She pressed a button next to her terminal, and I noticed that one of the lights in the ceiling goes out, like it had experienced a power shortage.

Clever.

"I wasn't in charge of placing bugs on the Normandy." Miranda said. "I only have recording in my room for record-keeping purposes."

"Right." I replied. "And Nixon taped his conversations in the Oval Office so he could better write his memoirs."

Miranda actually looked genuinely offended at that one.

"Are you seriously comparing me to that piece of shit?" She hissed. It might be a little bit of the alcohol, but I'm thoroughly enjoying riling her up. Also, her accent makes the way she said that pretty funny. Far too posh for such a dirty line.

"Well, it's either that or I call you a ratfucker."

She throws a crumpled up piece of paper at me. I laugh.

"I'd prefer you keep the obscenities to a minimum. Or at least don't be vulgarly creative, like Subject Zero."

At this, I frown.

"Her name's Jack."

"Somehow I doubt that." Miranda said. "I still think that that's a codename."

"Probably because the Cerberus scientists working on her stripped that piece of her identity away from her." I said. At this, Miranda looks somewhat defensive.

"If they did that, then that was an unacceptable breach of protocol, not to mention a travesty of ethics. A rogue cell like that does not comply with the overall mission of Cerberus."

"Keep talking, I don't have enough for the propaganda film." I said, pantomiming that I was using my iDroid as a camcorder. She looks annoyed.

"I'm being serious, John. Cerberus is dedicated to the advancement of human interests in the galaxy. We aren't the bad guys that everyone claims that we are."

"You know, I'd almost believe that if there weren't a troublingly high number of Cerberus cells that were either rogue, gone dark thanks to my sister shutting them down, or gone dark because they went poking their noses in the Lost Ark like the Nazis."

"…I'm afraid I don't get the reference." Miranda said somewhat helplessly. I snort.

"Jesus, you need to watch more movies."

"I don't have the time for movies."

At this, I burst into laughter.

"You don't have the time for movies?" I'm hitting that stage of drinking where everything out of my mouth is either what I'm feeling that moment or the brutal and honest truth. At this point, who the hell knows what I'm gonna say next.

"What is there to watch?" Miranda asked. "Most movies are blatant attempts at pandering to fanbases, cliché-riddled action films, shameless franchise cash cows or…disappointing rom-coms."

Wait a minute. She looked a little hesitant when she said that. Is that…disappointment in her eyes?

"You still looking for the perfect story that tugs at your heartstrings?" I asked. "The kind that sets your skin tingling and puts your heart aflutter, and leaves a warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach?"

" _No._ " Miranda said.

 _Yes_ , said the brief look in her eyes. She then scowls.

"Wait a goddamn minute, we were supposed to be talking about you and the Cobra Unit. How the hell did we go off on this bloody tangent?"

"'Bloody?'" I asked. "Clearly you're hanging around Zaeed too much."

"Stop it!" Miranda said. "Or so help me I'll biotically crush your last pack of cigars."

"You don't know where I keep them."

" _I'll find them_."

Good lord, this is too easy. She's cracked like an egg, for someone that's supposedly the ice queen of Cerberus. Well, then again, I was always excellent at getting under peoples' skin, whether I was a member of the academy's training team or when I was with the Cobras.

…Aw, man.

"So I joined the Alliance right out of high school." I said. "Barely passed my entrance exam, to the point that the trainer recommended that I do the make-up the next month. With Sis encouraging me and helping me every step of the way, I didn't just ace it – I placed top of the class. Especially in the hand-to-hand portion."

"Is that where the job as a trainer for the academy came in?" Miranda asked. "Because you seemed awfully young for such a position."

"I was." I said. "But think of it as a part-time deal. While I was getting deployed to planets around the galaxy, that was my 'active duty.' Whenever I got leave, I'd just fly back in to the academy and use my 'shore leave' as an on-call instructor. I got a lot of people, mostly because there are a lot of wannabe badasses out there. Some of them flame out, especially when I'm giving them shit in addition to beating them up. Others, like Mutt Williams, roll with the punches and become iron-tough."

"When you were on duty, what were you doing?" She asked. She was leaning forward now, hands resting under her chin. I shrug.

"It depended. Sis was in officer school and training and then she got into the N7 program. So she often got to deal with things in the 'cleaner' sense of being in the sky or in naval battles. She had a few ground engagements, but it wasn't until Elysium that she showed the world that when the chips were down, you cannot kill my sister with conventional means."

Miranda smiled.

"Is it true?" She asked. "Did your sister really save the colony in nothing but her pajamas?"

"Gospel." I said. "She'd been planning for a lazy day with her significant other at the time, just watching movies and eating ice cream all day. And then at about 8 in the morning she gets woken up by the first shell strike, and didn't sit back down until around midnight, when the counter-strike happened. I was on the fleet that came in to relieve the colony. I swear on my father's grave…Sis was in a panda bear t-shirt and wearing red flannel pajama bottoms with those fluffy slippers that girls like. The sight of her dressed like that…coupled with the still-smoking assault rifle in her hands…I went from terrified that she'd been hurt to laughing hysterically. The major thought I'd gone section eight."

"She's pretty unbelievable." Miranda said. If I didn't know any better, I'd say I saw a hint of jealousy in her face. But then it was gone. "So. Cobras."

"Right. I'll stop giving you the run-around." I said. "So, for whatever reason I got promoted to sergeant major of my unit in the aftermath of Elysium, and then got recommended by my commanding officer to apply to be a 'mustang.' You know, a former non-commissioned officer that goes up to a commissioned officer?" She nodded, so I continued. "Well, the unit that they placed me in was the COmbat Battle Recon Assault Unit. Or the COBRA Unit. I was at the very bottom of the totem for the first year and a half. The leader was Major Kyle, and he wasn't really the guy to whip people into shape: he liked things prepared for him. Right below the Major was the Captain in charge of training the FNG. That was…her job." I trail off. Something wells up in my throat, and I feel that melancholy that signals the never-ending sadness to come. "…I should go."

I get up and walk out the door. I notice that it's not locked. I guess she's more considerate than I considered.

…

It's way later that night, and once again I find myself sitting in the mess hall. There's no one around, not even Mess Sergeant Gardner. Apparently we're headed to the Haestrom system to pick up one of Sis' many, many old friends. Most of mine are gone. And that conversation with Miranda just reminded me in a painfully bitter way.

Jack had come up recently. She's been a lot more conversational lately. Hard to believe it, but Kelly thinks that me withholding sleeping with her (despite the very luminescent blush it gave the Yeoman) gave Jack a reason to trust me a little bit more: I wasn't just in this to use her. She'd gotten her food, grumbling that everyone was a pussy for not bringing it down to her, and then she'd seen me sad-sacking around. She patted me on the shoulder.

"Don't feel down, Doc." She said. "Shepard plans to take the two of us into combat when we hit Haestrom. You'll be ready to fuck shit up, right?"

I half-mumble in the affirmative, and she leaves with a satisfied little smile on her face. I stare at the coffee that's sitting in front of me. I'd like another drink, but I don't feel like getting knocked out yet. That might come later, though, if I keep thinking about all of the shit that bubbled up from my subconscious. Miranda really did mean well, but goddamn did that hurt.

I become aware of a presence right next to me, standing up by my shoulder.

"I apologize, John. I didn't realize that you were up as well. I would have come over sooner."

I look up. It's Thane. He's holding a cup of something. It doesn't smell like coffee.

"You don't have to." I muttered. Thane tilted his head to the side.

"As you wish." He turns around.

"Wait." I said. "I didn't actually mean that. I just…ugh…" I bury my face in my hands, rubbing my forehead like I'm trying to massage a headache. "It's been a really trying night. And I didn't mean to piss you off, Thane."

"I am unfamiliar with that phrase." Thane said, taking a seat across the table from me. "My translator glitched a bit. But I understand if you're having a dark night." He looked melancholy, as he stared at the drink he was cupping in his hands. "I have those every now and then, too."

"About killing people?" I ask. Thane is silent for a moment. And then he speaks.

"Among other things." He said. He then raised an eyebrow. "Are you familiar with the nature of Drell?"

"I've met a few." I said. "Never for very long. They weren't nearly as…refined as you are." Thane gives a small, sad smile.

"When my people were pulled into the stars by the Hanar years ago, a large sum of us recognized the golden opportunity that this gave us to rectify the mistakes we'd made as a population. And yet…" He sighed. "There is still a rather sizeable amount that don't really recognize the gift we were given."

He's pretty poetic, I'll give him that. I gesture to the drink.

"What's with the tea?" I asked. He looked at it, and then back up at me.

"Oh. I suppose I might as well let you in on what I told your sister during the briefing." He said. He sighed. "I have Keprel's Syndrome. It's a respiratory illness that affects Drell. Think of it as the Drell equivalent to how pervasive cancer is to your species. The difference here is that there is no treatment." He sighed. "Tea is good for airing out my lungs. It doesn't do much, but it does keep the coughing at bay."

"How long do you have?" I asked.

"I was supposed to have three months to live when I received the final diagnosis." He gave a small smirk. "That was six months ago."

I just blink at him.

"Holy shit. You really are unkillable." I said. Thane chuckles.

"I do not share the same optimism as you, John. But I appreciate the hyperbole." He sighs, and takes a sip of his tea. I just stare at the man.

"How are you so calm in the wake of this?" I asked. Thane shrugged.

"There is no point in despairing over the inevitable. My body will eventually expire, but when that moment comes I will rest knowing that my soul shall cross the sea."

"I have to admit, you lost me there." I said. Thane smiled.

"I apologize. I forget that not every species is familiar with Drell religious beliefs. We hold that our body and our 'self' are two separate entities. When we are 'whole,' that is when things are balanced and our lives are good. When either of the two is in disarray from the other, then it is upon us to correct and restore the balance."

"Sort of like Buddhism." I said. Thane nodded.

"That is a somewhat fitting comparison. The difference is that while your Buddha never proclaimed to be a deity and only very fringe groups would suggest otherwise, in our religion we have several gods. Closer to a mix of Hinduism and Buddhism, if you can follow."

"Yeah." I said.

"There are many, many gods and goddesses, but there are three in particular that most know about. There is Amonkira, Lord of Hunters. There is Arashu, the Goddess of Motherhood and Protection." Thane then spoke slightly more reverently. "And then there is Lady Kalahira, Goddess of Oceans and Afterlife. In time, I will see her soon."

"What's the deal with the Ocean?" I asked.

"It is an evolution of Drell life, I suppose." Thane said. "A metaphor for our existence, both prior to and after the Hanar intervention." He took a deep breath. "Our former homeworld was Rakhana, an arid and dry land filled with deserts. We warred over many things and many natural resources, but the most precious of them all was water. Water was worth its weight in all the finest jewels you could imagine, and what little bodies of water Rakhana possessed were protected with a near-religious zeal. To desecrate or drain a great body was tantamount to blasphemy…though that did not stop some of the more industrially-driven governments." He shook his head. "And now we have a sort of irony: all our lives we have attached a spiritual connotation to water and its scarcity, and the creatures that should save us turn out to be from a planet that is almost entirely covered in water. Coincidence might be a scientist's word for chance, but there is something remarkably profound about the timing and situation that we found ourselves in before and after our rescue."

I have nothing to say. Nothing to snark, nothing to quip back at him. For once in my life, I find myself somewhat impressed by what I'm hearing.

"I've always liked water." I admitted. "Sis hated swimming and would threaten me with bodily harm should I ever push her into a lake or a river, but I was never bothered by it."

"Kalahira would be very pleased to hear you say that." Thane said with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, well I dunno if Kalahira would take kindly to a dirty human singing her praises. Or Amonkira or Arashu, for that matter."

"I think that they would be flattered." Thane said with a chuckle. "But I suppose that that's none of my business."

He then takes a rather obnoxiously drawn out sip of tea. I have the sneaking suspicion that he's having fun at my expense, but right now I'm too tired to care. I sigh instead.

"I wish I was whole."

I say it before I realize. Thane pauses mid-sip, and then sets the cup back down.

"What makes you say that? Do you not believe that you are whole?"

"I don't believe it. I _know_ it." I said. I know part of this is the result of drinking too much, but it's still coming out. I reach into my pocket for a cigar, and have it half lit when I look at Thane. "Shit, I forgot-"

"It is quite alright." Thane said. "Keprel's Syndrome is the result of being around too humid of an environment for too long. Smoking isn't going to bother me. And at this stage in my life, it does not matter." He then looked serious again. "Do you wish to talk about it?" He then sighed. "Though I must confess, I am not the best at working out personal issues. It is as much a struggle for me as it is for the next person."

"Thanks for the honesty." I said. "But if you can't talk to me, who can? Kelly is too flustered to be around me ever since I had that drink with her, and Miranda is the next best thing to a shrink on the ship. And I do not have the patience for that."

Thane looked pensive for a moment.

"Perhaps it is not a therapist you need to see right at this moment. Or, at least a traditional one."

I frown.

"Where are you going with this, Thane?"

The Drell smiled slightly.

"I am sure that, after we reach Haestrom, Samara would be happly to help you."

"She barely knows me." I said. Thane chuckled.

"Samara is an Asari Justicar, trained for centuries in the act of deductive reasoning, and is also blessed with a phenomenal trait at figuring out the nature of people around her." He said. "I wouldn't be surprised if she knows everything about you down to your favorite ice cream."

We both chuckle a little bit, but it rings hollow in my chest. He's wrong.

Samara doesn't know anything about me. She can't help.

But then, deep within me coming from a place that I didn't know existed before, I can almost hear a little whispering in my ear.

 _Not until you let her, bud._

A/N: Someone in the comments mentioned that Samara and Thane might be John's "Garrus and Tali" over time. I have had major plans for the three of them for a while now, so it's rather amusing to see someone guess it right. There was also another review that postulated about a plot point that has not been touched in this story yet.

As always, stay tuned…

Also, be sure to check out the poll I have on my profile! Vote if you can.


	22. Fight In The Shade

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on. **Be sure to vote on the poll my profile has! When the chapter after this one is published, I will consider the poll** **closed.**

As we floated through the air, having entered the atmosphere of Haestrom, it didn't take a genius to figure that something was wrong. Usually, even on a planet that isn't inhabited by speaking sapient creatures, you can still "sense" that there is life on the planet. And yet as I looked out one of the small windows on the Kodiak, I stared at the ruins and couldn't sense anything. It just looked and felt… _empty._

" _Shepard, our data indicates that Tali is somewhere in these ruins. There is considerable Geth activity and an environmental hazard_." EDI said over the loudspeakers inside the little shuttle. Sis pressed a finger to her ear, turning on her TeamCom.

"Can you be more specific, EDI?" She asked.

" _Solar output has overwhelmed Haestrom's protective magnetosphere. Exposure to direct sunlight will damage your shields._ "

Next to me, Jack shakes her head and loads a clip into her shotgun.

"Guess we're gonna need a shitload of sunscreen."

"What is this sunscreen you speak of?" Grunt asked. "Surely you humans cannot be so weak as to suffer acute damage from something as harmless as a sun."

I'm about to tell him that he's gonna get burned too if we stick around, but Sis just rolls her eyes and shoots me a look that tells me not to bother. So I don't. We get off of the Kodiak, and I note that there is some conveniently placed debris between here and other locations that offer reprieves from the heat. So if there are Geth around here, that means we have to juggle shooting them as well as hiding from the heat. Great.

"Move up towards that building." Sis said, pointing to the end of the ramp, and where the first bit of exposed walkway is. "And make it snappy."

I'll give her credit: she was the first one to run along the walkway and into the heat. I could _hear_ her shields hissing. That was not a good sign. Then Grunt barreled forward, roaring that puny heat did not affect pure Krogan. Jack and I looked at each other, shrugged, and then ran after the two of them.

Oh my mother of god, it was so damned hot. I felt sweat forming on my forehead, and I could _feel_ my shields giving out. I had only just installed a shield system on my person a few days ago (at Sis' irate insistence when she'd discovered I'd been going around unprotected), and yet here I was fearing that it was gonna give out. I raced towards the shade, right outside the door that Sis and Grunt were stacked up by, and immediately felt the relief of the cool air.

"Holy _**fuckballs**_ it is fucking HOT!" Jack snarled, shivering the way people do when they think they've been badly burned. She hadn't, thanks in part to an extra mass effect field she'd employed, but at the same time it was a sobering reminder that we needed to move in and out of this place _fast._

"Is everyone ok?" Sis asked.

"Do I fucking _look_ okay?" Jack snarled. "I'm gonna actually have to use that aloe vera shit when we get done with this job. Aloe. VERA. Shepard, if I didn't like you as much as I did I'd kill you as soon as the mission was over."

I look at Sis and nod.

"She's fine."

"Oh, _fuck you,_ Doc."

"You humans are strange."

Sis activated the door, and we all got inside.

…

It was the cleanest bloodbath I had ever seen. There at the far side of the room, where a terminal rested, was a Quarian. I'd seen a few of them every now and then in my travels and wallowing, but they were usually a lot smaller than this guy. He looked pretty buff for a Quarian. And he was riddled with suit punctures, and his helmet visor was cracked. Considering how finicky Quarian immune systems are, the fact that it had taken this much to bring him down was impressive.

That was when I noticed the corpses of several Geth strewn around him. I'd never seen geth Geth before, except in a few holovids on the Normandy as I tried to play catch-up over the years Sis had spent kicking ass, as well as the events of the attack on the Citadel. They had weird-ass flashlight bulbs for faces, and a strangely-hunched look. They seemed like they had legs similar to the gait of a Turian, but then again I had no fucking clue. These Geth weren't going to be letting me in on their physiology any time soon.

They were all dead.

Jack let out a low whistle.

"Damn. Bubble Boy took a lot of Geth with him!" She kicked at one of the Geth corpses. "This one's a big fucker. How many shots do you think he took to go bye-bye?"

"Too many." Sis said, in a tone that suggested she'd had plenty of experience. The terminal was active, and there was a recording primed on a continuous loop.

" _Emergency log entry: The geth are here. I've stayed to buy the others time. Anyone who gets this, find Tali'Zorah. She and that data are all that matters. Keelah se'lai."_

"Great. Now we know that the fucking _geth_ are looking for your friend, Shepard." Jack growled. "I don't intend to add contact burns and shit to the sunlight burns I'm sure I've got."

"Don't worry, Jack." Sis said. She did a quick scan of the place for medkits and the like, and then gestured for us to follow her back out the door. "I know how to fight geth, and Tali is more than capable of holding them off until we get to her. Now, let's move."

I'm the last one to leave. I notice something shiny around the chest of the dead Quarian. Upon closer inspection, it looks like…dog tags? Something similar, though instead of the uniform shape and material that the Alliance uses, this one seems to come from some warped piece of scrap metal, with the information carefully chiseled into the sheet.

 _The dogs tags are spattered with blood. I stare at them in shock, unable to vocalize, until finally my voice returns._

 _It returns as an animalistic howl of grief. Of grief and rage._

I shake my head, and take the tags off of his body. Maybe this Tali Zorah will know better about how to handle them.

…

Out in the courtyard, I rejoin the team just in time to see a geth ship touching down over us.

"Take cover!" Sis shouted.

The first wave of rounds from the geth troopers come in spurts, but eerily precise. A few of them clip my duster, and my shields squawk in annoyance that I wasn't able to get out of the way in time.

I pop out of cover, and aim for one of them. Christ, but they move quickly. I get a bead on one of them, and fire. My shot hits it right in the flashlight face. It flails around blindly for a moment, out in the open, and then its head explodes in a shower of sparks and synthetic goo. I look back to see where the shot came from, and see a mischievously grinning Jack.

"Double tap, dumbass!" She shouted. Her eyes flared dark blue, and she thrust forth a biotic wave that slammed two of them against a wall.

The last four geth all got taken down by precise shots from Sis' Vindicator assault rifle. I can hear Grunt whining like a little kid that _he_ wanted to kill those geth. But I'm sure that there will be more of them, so I don't pay him any mind.

It feels like we're making our way through some industrial construction site, so at least where there is cover, there is _solid_ cover of concrete and scaffolding and other things. It's a very urban environment, and if things ever got chippy you could just dive for cover and not worry about damage.

The problem, of course, was that the geth were equally as capable as we were at using cover. And it was an advantage that they used very liberally. Progress was painfully slow, and I could feel Jack and Grunt bristling at the rate of movement. But Sis was a professional, through and through. She wasn't about to take any stupid risks, and yet wasn't about to dawdle at the same time. Every room and corner was cleared, and every target was marked and dealt with through suppressing fire and proper flanking. And, slowly but surely, I could feel the old training tactics kicking back in.

 _They were tenacious but undisciplined. As we chased them deeper into the refinery, it became a clinical game of chess as we maneuvered and out-flanked them at every turn. As more and more of them dropped to our fire, the men started to think that we were cutting down the high-ranking pieces. The queen had to be next._

 _Little did we know that the Batarians were playing the classic long game: wait for your enemy to outstretch themselves in taking your pawns…and then counter-attack._

I shook my head, the ringing in my ears subsiding. We were inside again, and from the look of it we were in the aftermath of a bloodbath. There were several dead Quarians around the floor, and not that many dead Geth. I silently started collecting their dog tags if I could find them. Thankfully, none had been damaged, though one of the Quarians was lying on top of the tag. I rolled his corpse over as Sis picked up a little receiver radio. There was a voice on the other end.

" _Break-break-break. OP-1, this is Squad Leader Kal'Reegar, do you copy?"_ A pause as Sis debated how to break it to him. " _OP-1, this is Squad Leader Kal'Reegar, come in, over!"_

Sighing, Sis pressed the respond button on the side of the radio.

"This is Commander Jane Shepard of the Normandy. Can we be of assistance, Squad Leader Reegar?"

Clearly Sis is aware of Quarian naming methods to know that although technically "Kal'Reegar" could be written as one word, wherever the apostrophe is placed is the "break-up" point of the name. So it must be in between Kal and Reegar. Clearly Sis talked to Tali a lot when they were together.

" _Patch your radio into Channel 617 Theta. We were on a stealth mission. High risk. We found what we were after, but the geth found us._ "

Now all of us can hear Kal'Reegar through our TeamCom instead of just through the speakerphone of the receiver radio. We all give Sis a thumbs up to let her know.

" _They've got us pinned down. Can't get to our ship, can't transmit data through the solar radiation."_

"What's the strength of your team?" Sis asked. "How many of you are left?"

"I've counted six bodies." I said.

" _Whoever's on the line with you that said that means that we're down to half strength, Commander._ " Reegar said. " _We had a dozen marines, not counting the science team. This was supposed to be a discreet mission. Made the synthetic bastards pay for every life they took, though._ "

I bite my tongue. That first Quarian certainly did his part: I counted no less than six geth corpses around him, and considering geth corpses tend to decompose after some time, there might have been even more. But the squad we were around? They'd been wiped out. But that's commanding officers for you: in the middle of a catastrophe, your neck could break from the whiplash as they claim moral victories as sincere ones.

"Why are you all out this far in space?" Sis asked.

" _You're asking the wrong person, Shepard. I just point and shoot._ "

I think I might like this Kal'Reegar guy.

" _Something about the sun._ " He finally offers. " _It's going bad faster than it should. Some kind of energy problem._ " Yeah, he's definitely just the muscle for the op.

"Any idea where the geth came from?" Sis asked.

" _One of their patrol ships found us._ " Kal'Reegar said. " _Dropships started raining geth down on our heads before we could get off-world._ _System's under geth control. We knew that they made planetary sweeps periodically, but we'd hoped that going low-emissions would hide us._ "

Ah. I don't pretend to know the ins and outs of the Quarian-Geth uprising as well as the fall of Rannoch, but whomever organized this operation at the top of the totem pole in the Migrant Fleet should be chewed out: these Quarians are basically spying in enemy space. If that Quarian commander had been handed a briefing of the old U-2 Incident of 1960, they might have shown a little more tact.

I smile to myself as I realize that only Sis would get that reference. We're more alike than I care to admit, sometimes.

" _I don't think more are coming though, if you're wondering_." Reegar said. " _Their patrol ship hasn't lifted off again, and the radiation blocks off-world communications._ "

"How are you holding up?" Sis asked. "Give us a few minutes and we'll be there."

" _Thanks, but take it slow and careful._ " Reegar said. " _Direct sunlight will fry your shields all to hell._ " He paused, no doubt to get a sense of his bearings. " _We're bunkered down at base camp across the valley. I left Tali'Zorah at a secure shelter, then I doubled back to hold the chokepoint._ "

"You're got confirmation that the geth haven't gotten Tali yet?" Sis asked. There was a hint of worry in her voice.

" _Affirmative!_ " Reegar said, no doubt sensing the tone in Sis' voice. " _Left my best men with her. When you get here, you can talk to her on the comm._ _Every marine on this rock is sworn to protect Tali'Zorah. Long as one of us is still drawing air, she'll be safe._ "

"Hold position! We're coming in." Sis said. That's when I notice the bunker that the Quarians in the distance are holding off the geth from. We're about to move, when Kal'Reegar's voice comes in.

" _Wait! Watch your ass, we've got a geth dropship coming in!"_

I should have known that it wouldn't be as clear-cut as Reegar would like. One minute, the Quarians are defending the position. The next, a strafing run from the dropship cuts them to pieces _and_ knocks a massive slab of rock in front of the entrance to the bunker.

" _Crap. Doorway's blocked! Grab the demo charges in the buildings nearby, and then use them to clear a path!_ "

"We're on it."

" _Shit, they're coming in from the sides. I have to fall back!"_ Reegar shouted, and then he terminated his link. Hope he'd hold out long enough. I was starting to like the guy.

" _Shepard, I have scanned the locations of the charges needed to blow a hole in the entrance to the bunker._ "

"Put it on my map." Sis said.

" _You'll also need to get both sets of charges for a blast big enough to clear the rubble._ "

"Works for me." Sis said. "Let's split it up. Jack, you and Grunt go take the charges from the far building. John and I take the other ones. Stay out of the sun for as long as you can! MOVE!"

…

Well, this is something.

For the first time in…I don't know how long…the siblings Shepard are reunited once more. Sis and I had never really gotten a chance to get out in the field together much before this mission, unless you counted my "rescue" of her at Elysium, but this was the first time that it was just the two of us. I have to say, there was something kind of nice about the way that she was trusting me to watch her back in a firefight. Janey always did know how to pick her backup.

"John! Quit lollygagging and help me kill geth!"

Oh, shit. Right.

I blast a geth trooper in the head, making sure to double-tap just like Jack taunted me to. The thing's head explodes, and it spasms a bit while standing before it collapses upon itself. Not bad.

I hear noises to my right, and whirl around to fire a shot. Instead, I'm treated to the sight of Sis getting within arm's reach of a pretty big-looking geth. The creature throws its rifle at her in a sweeping, swinging motion. It clearly isn't used to attempting a rifle butt to the head. Sis ducks under it with the fluidity and speed of a professional kickboxer, and then stomps as hard as she can right into the back of the geth's knee. That isn't going to do anything: geth are synthetic bastards for a reason, no one is strong enough to-

The geth's leg buckles underneath it, and Sis finishes the creature off with a hammer fist strike that caves in the flashlight head. She then whirls around and caps two geth troopers that were trying to sneak up on her.

What, exactly, was Cerberus feeding my sister for two years?

I hear a buzzing in my ears, and I turn around just in time to see a geth trooper right in my grill. I raise my arms up to defend myself, but I don't have the super strength of Sis. I get knocked on my back, and I see stars as I hit the concrete. I roll away as the geth tries to stomp on me, and as I flail around I see a small piece of rebar lying right next to me. As the geth prepares to reload and just shoot me, I grab the rebar and thrust upwards.

I might not be superstrong, but I'm still pretty fucking strong.

The rebar pierces the geth right up between the legs, and the sudden loss of core stability causes the thing to double over in what I assume was pain. That brings it within arm's reach. I reach up with my free hand, slam my Carnifex against the side of its head, and keep pulling the trigger until there's no head left.

"Keep up, Bro!" Sis is over here in a moment, and hoists me back up to my feet. There is zero effort on her part. It's kind of amazing and terrifying all the same. Back in the day, if I wanted to I could hold myself in place and there was fuck all she could do to get me moving. Now I think I'd be a minor annoyance to her.

We get inside the building, a dark and dank place that looks a little bit like an old warehouse, and Sis grabs the charges. There's an audio recording on the desk from Tali, but I don't really pay it much mind. She's clearly a brilliant scientist and technician though, from all the babble she's spouting out. She'd make a great addition to the team.

Sis and I run back out just in time to see the building that Grunt and Jack took basically go up in a brilliant explosion. The Krogan and the biotic are racing out through the door, covered in soot and giggling like schoolkids who dropped firecrackers in the toilet. Naturally, Sis is irate.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" She asked. Jack shrugged.

"Lighten up, Shepard. We just found a lot of oil and other flammables and I used a biotic charge to light the fuse. Grunt's got your explosives right there." She said. Grunt was practically bouncing on his toes in glee.

"We must do that again!" He said. "Destruction. Explosions…SO COOL!"

God, he really is a kid.

Sis wires the explosives to the metal that blocked the way to the base camp. After consulting with Jacob (he was the ordinance expert on the Normandy), Sis set the timer and ran like hell away from the blast. It was prett big, and more than enough to toss chunks of concrete into the air. I had to keep my eyes up to make sure that I didn't get squashed. There was a hole in the metal big enough for Grunt to roll through, so the four of us got inside the bunker with little fanfare.

It's a massacre. Dead geth and Quarians all over the place. I hope that one of the bodies isn't Reegar. As I collect dog tags left and right, I try to look for some sort of signal identifier. It's no good: I can't read Quarian writing. So I'm only left to hope. Jack lets out another whistle.

"Is this what the Quarian buildings looked like? Before they got their asses kicked?" She asked. "Damn, it's kind of cool!"

" _Tali'Zorah to base camp. Come in, base camp!_ "

There's a holo-emitter at the far end of the room, and there's a reading of a Quarian from the chest up emitting from it. This must be Tali. She has a nice voice, I suppose. Seems a bit young to be leading such a big expedition, though. Sis walks over to the emitter as Tali speaks again. " _Hello? Is anyone there?"_

"Tali, it's me. Shepard."

" _Shepard?_ " Tali asked. " _You show up at the strangest times! Not that I'm complaining, but what are you doing out here in geth space?_ "

"I was in the neighborhood. I thought you might need a hand."

Jack and I do a synchronized face palm. Leave it to Sis to make the stupid quip. Grunt just stares at us, confusedly.

" _Thanks a lot, Shepard. It's really good to see a friendly face. Especially yours._ " She continues. " _Kal'Reegar and what's left of the marines got me into the observatory. From where you are, it's through the door and across the field._ " She sighes. " _I got the data I needed and I'm safe for now, but I've got a lot of geth outside."_

"Would it help if I called the Normandy?"

There goes Sis, exhausting all options. I like that in situations like this.

" _Doubtful. These buildings are centuries old. If you bring down the heavy fire like I know Joker would, this whole place could collapse on us._ "

"Is anyone else still with you, or are you all alone out there?"

" _Reegar had a team of marines covering me when I ran for the observatory._ " Tali began. From her tone, I know where this is going. " _At least some of them are still alive. I can hear them firing at the geth outside._ "

"It looks like the door is locked to keep the geth out, and the console on our end is damaged." Sis said. "Can you get it open on your end?"

" _Let me see…Yes, I can do it. Here. Should be unlocked now._ "

The light to the door turns green.

" _Be careful, Shepard. And please, do what you can to keep Reegar alive._ "

The holo flickers out. Sis looks at us, nods, and then opens the door. There's a hallway that must lead to the outside, and we make our way out to the field that Tali was talking about.

That's when we see it.

I know big, but…whatever the hell _that_ thing is that the geth have is massive. It's on four legs, and each step seems to take a frightening amount of power. It looks at us, and its face starts to glow.

"GET DOWN!" Sis shouted, and we all duck for cover as this super geth's mortar shell slams into the building above us. While Jack is raging at the indignity of it all, I hear Grunt laughing.

"This is why I love running with you, Shepard!" He shouted, and then pointed at the geth superwhateverthefuck. " _ **BIG THINGS!**_ "

As we make our way down the stairwell, we see that we're not alone.

"Over here! Get to cover!"

It's a Quarian, decked in white and maroon armor. He's got a couple of rocket shells next to him, as well as a missile launcher in his arms. This has to be…

"Kal'Reegar, I presume?" Sis asked.

"Damn right, ma'am!" Reegar said, offering a quick salute. "I know you aren't a Quarian and you technically aren't my superior, but with all the crap you've done for us it's the least I can do. Now stay down here for a moment before that colossus gets ideas!"

We're all hiding behind the railing as some of the geth troopers start taking potshots at us. The colossus, as it is apparently called, is just ambling around, waiting for us to show our faces again. For such a mighty-looking thing, it sure is stupid.

"I mean, I still got no idea why you're here, Commander, but this ain't the time to be picky."

An explosion hits the side of the building, causing all to flinch. Reegar looks over to the building across the way.

"Tali's inside over there." Reegar said. "The geth killed the rest of my squad, and they're trying to get to her. Best I've been able to do is draw their attention."

Another explosion.

"Are you sure she's still alive?" Sis asked.

"The observatory is reinforced." Kal'Reegar said. "Even the geth will need time to get through it." He then sounds somewhat pleased with himself. "And it's hard to hack a door when someone's firing rockets at you." He looks back over at the battlefield. "The geth are near platoon strength, but the colossus is the worst part. It's got a repair protocol. Huddles up and fixes itself."

Okay, how is _that_ fair?

As if on cue, the colossus huddles up.

"I can't get a clear shot while's down like that." Reegar said. "I tried to move in closer, and one of the bastards punched a shot clean through my suit."

Shit, that's not good.

"How bad is the suit damage?" I asked. That's the inner doctor in me taking over. Sis kicked my ass in a lot of things, but I was always a little bit better at field patch-ups than she was. He looks over at me.

"Combat seals clamped down to isolate contamination, and I'm swimming in antibiotics right now." Reegar said. He sounds somewhat indignant. "The geth might get me, but I'm not gonna die from an infection in the middle of a battle. That's just _insulting!_ "

"What can you tell me about the battlefield?" Sis asked. There she goes again, forming a plan of attack. She was always a pretty damn good strategist. Might explain why she's been able to stay alive this long…again. Jack and I look at each other, and I can tell we're both thinking the same thing.

 _Great. Time for another impossible odd to overcome._

"The right side's got a catwalk with a sniper perch." Reegar said. "You could wreack some havoc from there, but none of my men made it past the geth. The middle's got cover, but the damn colossus has a clear shot at you the whole time, and you've got geth coming in from both sides. And the left gives you some cover from the colossus, but your ass is hanging out for the geth. That's how _I_ got shot." He said.

Succinct, to the point, and highly informative. Yes sir, he is a damned good soldier. We could have used him at Torfan.

 _And I would have led him to his death._

I slap the side of my head to get that thought out. Not here. Not now. There are important things to do and there are lives at stake.

"Any ideas?" Sis asked.

"Just one!" Kal'Reegar said cheerily. "I'm not moving so well, but I can still pull a trigger, and I've got a rocket launcher that the sun hasn't fried yet. You move in close. I'll keep the colossus busy, maybe even drop its shields. With some luck, you'll be able to finish it off."

"Negative, you've done enough Reegar. You don't need to throw your life away." Sis said.

"Wasn't asking your permission. My job is to keep Tali safe. This is our best shot." He said.

That's when I act.

I risk getting plugged in the head by standing up, and I stomp over and forcibly slam him into the concrete wall.

"We don't have enough people on our side for you to take one for the team, soldier!" I growl. "You will do what we say, and _you will_ _ **stand down.**_ "

"I'm not gonna stand there while you run into enemy fire!" Reegar protests. He's trying to fight his way out of my grip. "They killed my whole squad!"

With my free hand, I pull out the dog tags I've collected and hold them up in front of his face. A slight gust of wind, and they jangle slightly.

" _Here's_ your squad." I snap. "Anything else on this planet is just a body. You're not throwing your life away to honor corpses."

"And if you want to honor your squad," Sis jumped in. "Then we need you to watch our back. I need you to help out if they bring in reinforcements."

"All right, Shepard." Reegar concedes. "We'll do it your way. Hit them hard for me. Keelah se'lai."

"And to you as well." Sis said. She then turned to the others. "Grunt! You're gonna be the man in the middle. Distract the colossus, but _don't_ be stupid. Got it!"

"I shall CRUSH that beast in direct combat, exactly as a Krogan should!" He roared with pride.

"Jack!" Sis said. "You're gonna take the sniper perch to the right. It gives you the best angle to throw biotic blasts and everything you've got at the entire battlefield."

"You're buying the goddamn aloe vera if I get burned, Shepard!" Jack snarled, but she didn't object to the orders. Sis nodded.

"I'll swing left, and take out the geth platoon." She turned to me. "Bro, stay back here with Kal'Reegar."

"What?" I growled. "I can help too!"

"Then care for him, and make sure that Tali sees him in one piece." Sis said. "I'm counting on you, John."

I hate the fact that I'm getting left behind, but the look in her eyes shows me her sincerity that this is the best course of action. I sigh. And then I nod.

"Fine. _Fine!_ But you'd better do it quickly, Sis."

"When have I ever done things otherwise?" She asked with a wink. And with a bark, she ordered the team to move.

…

I will admit, staying back gave me a good view of things. Jack almost immediately dashed over to the right, and with a roar of anger and exertion began to throw waves of biotic energy across the battlefield. Grunt just charged right through the middle, tackling one of the geth troopers with enough force to split the thing in half at the middle. Sis, on the other hand, was clinically and sharply moving up the left, picking off geth attackers one by one.

"Damn, son!" Reegar said. "Commander Shepard knows how to work a team!" He said. I took a look at the suit puncture by his gut, and pressed a button on my iDroid to dispense a medigel cartridge. He looked at the device, and chuckled. "An iDroid, huh? Didn't those things go out of style like twenty years ago?" He asked. I looked up at him and glared.

"Do you want this medigel or not?" I grunt. Reegar chuckles.

"Sorry, sorry. One of the guys on my ship in the Fleet has an iDroid. They're actually pretty popular amongst some of the younger Quarians!" He shrugs. "That might be because they're really cheap considering they're mostly sold in what you humans would call flea markets."

I apply the medigel, and I can see him relaxing as it starts to get to him. I peer over to the battlefield to see that Grunt has just headbutted a geth to death. Jack is taking cover from some geth fire, no doubt swearing up a storm. And Sis has maneuvered herself to the left far enough that she has a clear shot on the geth colossus. There is a trail of dead geth behind her, all of them rapidly decaying in the intense heat.

"Damn, she moves quick!" Kal'Reegar said, shuffling over so that he can see. "But a little pro-tip: there's _no way_ that her ammo can make a sizeable dent in that thing's armor while it has the auto-healer factor. The rate of return would be _shit!_ "

I'm surprised that he's as technically sound as that, but I don't disagree. The colossus needs something to think about. I glance over….

…and see a very tempting-looking rocket launcher.

I look at it. Kal'Reegar looks at it.

And then we look at each other.

"I'll point you in the right direction." Reegar said. "You just fire."

It isn't that heavy, even after reloading the thing to hold a shell.

"It's scoped, so be sure that you are _actually_ seeing what you want to hit, and not just some tiny-ass button on the far wall!" Reegar said.

"Shut up."

"Juuuuust checking, human."

"I have a name, you know." I said, as I take aim.

"Well, you haven't told me it yet, smartass! So let's start over: hi, I'm Kal'Reegar! What's your name?"

"John Shepard." I said. He pauses.

"Oh shit, are you her brother?"

"Got it in one." I said. I press a button to turn the safety off. He chuckles.

"No wonder I felt like I was getting lectured in stereo." He said. "Okay, do you have a shot on the inhibitor chip that controls the auto-healer?"

I glance at the geth colossus' back. There seems to be a _slight_ bulge on its back that looks like it doesn't belong.

"Yeah, I see it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you _positive?_ "

"I dunno…"

"You don't know what?"

"I don't know what it looks like."

"It looks like a _slight_ bulge on its back that looks like it doesn't belong."

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You're sure _what?_ "

"Yes, I'm sure I'm aiming at the auto-healer inhibitor."

" _Then fucking fire, Shepard!_ "

I pull the trigger, trying not to smile. Sis would have been so proud of me if she'd heard that.

The rocket arches through the air, and slams into the colossus' back right as it starts to uncurl and begin firing. It shudders violently: I scored a direct hit. Sparks and fire emerge from its back, and that leaves it wide open to Sis, Jack, and then Grunt to score the final hits. It's the Krogan who lands the killing blow, as he slodes under its belly and fires upwards until shells start punching up and out of the damn thing's back. And then, mercifully, it's over.

Sis looks across the field towards us, and waves us to come meet up with her.

"Shit, son. That was a good shot." Reegar said, uneasily getting back to his feet. I help the poor guy up, and let him brace himself by wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"I don't think I could do it twice." I said. He just laughs as we make our way to the observatory.

Tali is pretty tall for a Quarian, as far as things go. She and the others are in mid-conversation as we make our way to the observatory.

"I promised to see this mission through. I did. I can join you now and then forward the data to the admirals." Tali said. "And if they have a problem with it, then they can go to hell. I just watched my entire team die."

"Maybe not the whole rest of your team, ma'am." Kal'Reegar said, loud enough for the others to turn. Tali gives a little squeak/gasp, and then sighs in relief.

"Reegar! You made it." She said. He chuckles.

"Your old captain's as good as you said she was." He said. "The colossus was no match for her." He then shrugs towards me. "Of course, her brother ain't so damned bad himself."

"Brother…? Shepard never…" Tali trails off. And then she turned towards Sis and placed her hands on her hips indignantly. "You never told me you had a brother, Shepard!"

It doesn't surprise me. I wouldn't talk about me if I hadn't had contact in years either.

"Pleased to meet you." I said. She turns and looks at me for the first time, getting a real look at the shaggy-haired bastard that I am.

"Oh! Um, hello. Nice to meet you, I'm Tali. And you're…?"

I smirk.

"Call me John." I said. "Sis is the 'Shepard' around here." Sis smirks when I say that.

"O-of course. Certainly. Not a problem, Jonatha-I mean, John."

Geez, flustered much? Am I that scary?

"We can take our ship out of here before the geth come back." Reegar said. "Thanks again for all your help, Shepard."

"Actually, Reegar…I'm going with Shepard. I won't be returning to the fleet." She said. Reegar seemed to sigh.

"Then I'll pass on the data to the Admiralty Board and tell them what happened here. And if they don't like it, fuck them." He turns to Sis. "She's in your hands now, Shepard. Keep her safe." And then he turns to me.

"Stop by the Migrant Fleet, if you have a chance John. I owe you a drink. Might have to buy some levo-based alcohol, but from one soldier to another, there's a bro code for saving a man's life."

I smile a little bit.

"Looking forward to it." I said.

…

We made our way back to the Normandy without a hassle. We saw off Reegar on his ship, and after a few minutes of cruising the Kodiak was docked back in the Normandy and we were safely within the ship. Sis and Tali went off to the briefing room, and judging by the Quarian's body language it was clear she wasn't a fan of working with Cerberus. Jack and Grunt went down to the mess hall, not caring that they were sweaty and smelly and covered in blood. They were talking about the big-ass explosion they caused and when they'd have the chance to do something like that again. Crew members of the Normandy looked the other way in fright. I think Sis putting the two of them together created a monster.

That just leaves me. I walk into the elevator, and am about to head down to the showers…

Only for the door to open and there is Thane in front of me.

"Hey Thane." I said. He smiles slightly.

"Good to see you, Jonathan. I was wondering if you'd forgotten our deal."

Our…deal?

"It was a sniping contest, right? Please tell me it was a sniping contest." I asked, somewhat frantically. He just shakes his head and smiles.

"I cleared it with the Commander, and seeing as how you have no major commitments at this time…I figured now might be as good as any time for you to work with Samara.

Oh. That.

Oh, _fuck me._

A/N: And another chapter is in the books! Hope you enjoyed. As I mentioned above, the next chapter is the last chapter before I tally the poll and determine the order of loyalty missions. Be sure to vote if you can!

See you next time.


	23. Meditations

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on. **Be sure to vote on the poll my profile has! I'm gonna give it a 24 hour window after the publication of this chapter, and then the poll will be** _ **CLOSED.**_

I couldn't escape. I had tried to see if there were errands that needed running. No one was interested. Zaeed had acted as though he couldn't hear me, even as I banged on the door to the room we shared and snarled that I'd break that goddamn antique he called "Jessie" in half. Nothing doing. Miranda smirked when I approached the door to her office, and then with a press of her button she had closed and locked the door on me.

My last desperate hope was to find Sis. We were headed out to Illium for a re-fuel, as well as a chance to begin work on shielding upgrades for the Normandy. Tali clearly had learned a lot in the two years since she and Sis had seen each other: Sis was practically giddy at the improvement plans that the Quarian suggested.

And she was _equally_ as giddy as she sealed my fate.

"Actually, Bro, I have a little clean-up mission I need to take care of on Illium. Nothing big. We don't need you. Myself, Mordin and Garrus should be fine."

"Sis, _please._ "

"Sorry, Johnny, I think some time off of the field should be good for you. I'm grounding you on the Normandy for 24 hours. Mandatory captain's orders."

"You are _not_ pulling rank."

"I'm pulling rank. Now stop being a little crybaby and go see Samara."

I swore both at her and to her that this grievance would never be forgotten. She just rolled her eyes and went back to listening to whatever big band song was on her omnitool. Sounded like Dean Martin. Ain't That A Kick in the Head. How fitting. I felt like _I_ was about to get kicked in the head.

I made my way to the observation lounge in the Normandy. Thane was waiting out in the hall, just outside the door that contained that which would kill me. He saw me coming, and crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a slight smile.

"I am glad to see that you are a man of your word, John." He said. I just stared holes at him. He stared back. "If you think that a simple glare is going to get me to falter, consider that I have assassinated many men that were bigger and of more intemperate disposition than you."

That's a very philosophical way to say I needed to suck it up. I had to admire it, in a way. So, I sighed and opened the door.

She was standing with her back to me, facing the expanse of space in front of us. I could see why she had chosen this place as her quarters: the view was simply breathtaking. Slowly, Samara turned around to see the two of us. She smiled slightly.

"Hello, Thane. Jonathan. I am glad that you could make it."

There isn't a trace of condescension in her voice and somehow that makes it all worse. I just sigh.

"Let's just get this over with."

For the first time, I detect the faintest hint of a frown in Samara's features.

"Meditation is something to take seriously, Jonathan. It is not merely a crutch or a manner of wasting time. Every action we take as an effect on the galaxy around us. Meditation is one such example."

I have a terrible urge to tell her that she currently sounds like pages from a self-help book, but I am way, way, way too afraid of angering her to do such a thing. So I just nod dumbly.

Samara gestures for the two of us to take a seat across from her, facing her as we all congregate on the soft, carpeted floor. Samara sits in front of us, her legs criss-crossed, and she rests her hands on her knees.

"The first and most important thing about meditation is clear yourself. Starting with deep and controlled breathing is good for relaxation." She closes her eyes, and her chest rises and falls with every exaggerated breath. I glance over at Thane, and I see that the Drell is already deep in his own meditations. He seems to have converted it into a hybrid of meditative calm and religious pondering, considering the way his hands are clasped together like that. Samara opens her eyes.

"Jonathan." She said, in a gentle yet motherly tone. "You aren't just here to watch Thane praying."

I sigh. And then I take a deep breath. This is so stupid. This isn't going to help me. At all.

"Close your eyes, and try to imagine yourself in a place away from here." Samara said. "It can be somewhere you know, or a place of your own mental creation."

I sit there, and roll my eyes as I think about this. And then I figure: why the hell not? Might as well humor them.

I close my eyes.

I keep them closed, and try to concentrate on this mental creation bullshit or whatever it is that they're asking of me.

"You're waiting. Don't wait."

My eyes snap open in irritation, and see that Samara is staring at me with a cryptic little smile on her face that is equal parts confusing and infuriating. So I clear my throat.

"What do you mean?" I manage to growl. Next to me, Thane has not moved a muscle. I envy his ability to block everything out. Samara's tone is gentle and measured.

"When you _try_ to picture this place where you can be at peace, it will never come to you. You wait, and you wait…and all you are doing is wasting your time. You need to relax…and find this place without thinking."

"That's impossible." I finally said. I'm itching to get up. Samara shakes her head.

"Not impossible, Jonathan…but it is not easy." There is an unspoken reference there, buried somewhere in her words. _And even more difficult for someone as psychologically damaged as you are._

I resist the urge to roll my eyes again, but I catch her look and realize that she is really and sincerely invested in this. And I guess if she's gone through all of this trouble…I might as well try to do it the right way.

So I close my eyes again, for real this time.

…

I blink and open my eyes, and I'm no longer in the Observation Lounge. The sounds of the Normandy's systems have faded away. The pallid glow of the lights above our heads have given way to something far more natural. Something far more welcoming. I'm in a field. A field of white flowers that gently sway in the breeze. I can't move, but I content myself to watch the world, wherever this place is, and take in the sights.

And then it starts.

It begins when I see her. Beautiful as I remember her from the first day I laid eyes on her. That short blonde hair and those crystal-clear eyes. A sharp face that was both regal and beautiful at the same time. She's standing in the field, some distance away from me. I make an effort to call out to her, but the noise dies in my throat. She's dressed in what she was wearing the last time I saw her: that grey-green combat uniform and the immaculately clean army boots.

She looks over at me, and stares.

I blink, and when I open my eyes she is spattered with blood.

Like a stone thrown into a pond, the flowers in the center of the field go from lily white to blood red, and they fan out in an endless sea of blood and pain. And now the ambient noises of nature and whatever peace that had once dominated this place fade away.

And I can hear the thunder and the fury; the gunfire and the explosions and the screams. It advances on me like a tidal wave, and I barely manage to get one last look at her pained expression before the fury overwhelms me.

…

I snap my eyes open to realize that I am sitting on the floor of the observation lounge, with Thane holding me in his arms as if I had been thrashing about. I can feel a bit of cold sweat on my forehead. Samara is there in front of me, her face a mask of motherly concern and worry.

"Jonathan…" She whispers. "Jonathan, it's okay. It's okay, Jonathan. It wasn't real. You're here on the Normandy. You're safe. It's alright."

Slowly, I can feel my heartbeat slowing down, and can no longer hear my pulse slamming. My breathing steadies, and I sit myself upright. I shake my head sadly. What a fucking waste of time this was.

And I make that feeling clear to the others by verbalizing it.

But instead of putting on a resigned face or even an agreeing nod of her head, Samara looks confused.

"What did you expect, Jonathan? That with a single session we would be able to heal the pain that is buried in your heart? In your soul?" She shakes her head. "No. This is something that takes time. Time…and a willingness to confront it." She then smiles slightly. "You may not realize this, but you are opening yourself up again."

"See what good it did me?" I asked. "I practically had a PTSD flashback in front of you." Samara nods, but then smiles.

"That is because, perhaps for the first time, you are willing to make yourself open to total tranquility. For someone whose mind is not used to such a thing, of course it will be difficult. But this was the first time in perhaps years that you did not immediately run away from your problems." She smiled. "It is a good sign for you, Jonathan Shepard." She gestures to Thane, who helps me up. "I think that this is good enough for today. There will be plenty of other opportunities in the future for us to get together."

She is smart, I guess. When you've discovered a breakthrough, the last thing that you want to do is push a little bit further than you need to go and accidentally break something deeper in the vaults of the mind, and end up ruining all the progress you made before. I'm guessing that this is something that Samara had impressed upon her during her centuries as a Justicar warrior.

I gently refuse Thane's offer to help, and walk under my own power out the door after the Asari. If what she says is true, then I think it might be wise for me to take as much under my own power as I can.

And what better way is there than to walk on one's own?

…

As it turned out, I wasn't the only Shepard that had run into some unexpected turbulence that day.

Samara, Thane and I were sitting at one of the tables in the mess hall, quietly discussing some of the finer points of life on the Normandy, when we became aware of shouting going on in the direction of the med bay. Sensing a potential crisis, Samara and Thane got out of their seats smoothly and swiftly, leaving me to scramble to catch up.

We saw that there was some activity in the med bay, and that Mordin and Garrus were in the middle of a rather heated discussion with Doctor Chakwas. Well, rather, it was Chakwas and Garrus that were heated, and Mordin was offering commentary from the side every now and then.

"How could you let this happen, Garrus? I've known you for years, this is such a difference from the man that I know and trust."

"How could I have known something like that was going to happen? It was a routine mission, with literally no high stakes involved!"

"In personal experience, mundane missions often most dangerous."

"Not now, Dr. Solus." Dr. Chakwas said. She turned back to Garrus. "You are so lucky that you got her back to me when you did. The scans that I ran were negative for anything serious, so consider yourself lucky. Because if Miranda found out-"

"If Miranda found out what?" The very Cerberus operative in question appeared around the corner. She seemed to be walking at a rather brisk pace, as if there was something on her mind that was of the utmost importance and that all other tasks were to take second fiddle to this one. Dr. Chakwas looked at her and sighed. She clearly wanted to spare Garrus some dignity.

"During a routine mission for some supply gathering, Commander Shepard was…injured?"

" _Injured?_ " Miranda seemed to both stammer and hiss in rage at the same time. She turned to Garrus and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"How did you let this happen?"

"It's not my fault!"

While they were arguing, Samara, Thane and I made our way over to the observation window to peek into the med bay. Sis was holed up on one of the hospital beds, and was conscious. She was covered in a litany of little cuts and scrapes, and she had an annoyed look on her face…although her face was also a little bit vacant. I sighed. I recognized a concussion when I saw it. I wonder how Sis had gotten-

" _YOU LET HER JUMP ON A GRENADE?"_

Ah. That would do it.

"I didn't _let_ her!" Garrus said. "She did it to save me! And it was a concussive grenade, it isn't like she was blown to pieces."

"In personal experience, concussive grenades most dangerous due to unpredictable reactions in victims' bodies."

"Not. NOW, Solus!" Garrus snarled.

Finally, I'd had enough.

"Yo!" I barked across the room, getting everyone's attention. "What the hell is going on here?"

There's a brief silence in the room. I guess I was still shaken up from my attempt at meditation, because I'd used my "Butcher" voice a little bit. The others turned to look at me.

"Shepard and I…were in a little firefight." Garrus said. "Things might have gotten slightly out of hand and, well, one thing led to another…"

"…which led to our commander jumping on a live grenade to save her Turian friend here and then nearly get blown up." Miranda hissed. "And now Dr. Chakwas is telling me that the Commander is to be confined to her med bay bed for two days. TWO days!" She jabs a finger threateningly towards Garrus. "You had better pray that she heals exactly as she was when _I_ put her back together, because if she doesn't you'd better hope I don't get my hands on you: I am _far_ superior at taking things apart than putting them back together." She shoved a holopad in Dr. Chakwas' chest, and then stormed off.

There was another silence.

"That was…harsh." Garrus said. Dr. Chakwas sighed.

"Don't pay it any mind, Garrus. Before you got on board the ship there were periodic inspections for the pharmacists' division on the Normandy. Let's just say that Miss Lawson would go apoplectic whenever she saw something that wasn't fitting to regulations."

"Shepard will be alright though, right?" Garrus asked.

"I see no reason why she shouldn't be." Dr. Chakwas said. "I was instituting the two days moratorium as a means to give the Commander some sleep: Lord knows she could use some."

The others all nod sagely. But my mind is on other things. Miranda is usually pretty cold to people or downright nasty, but this seemed a little bit over the top even for her standards. I turn to Thane and Samara.

"I'm gonna go see what's up. See you guys around."

They both nod, seemingly in unison, and then they disappear into the bowels of the ship.

…

I find Miranda in her office, as she is obsessively reading over some datapad. I clear my throat, and to my surprise she practically jumps out of her chair.

"What do you want, John?" She asked. I shrug.

"I was wondering if you were hungry. We could get a bite to eat by the mess hall, because I still think there's some meat on Garrus' carcass after you ripped him apart."

Instead of even slightly smirking, she just scowls.

"John, I am in _no mood_ for jests, especially dull ones. Now, if you don't have anything better to do than bother me, please find someone else to bother."

At this, I frown.

"Okay, what's the deal?" I growl. "I know I'm usually a shithead, but this time I was trying to make a light-hearted joke especially in the wake that my Sis dodged a metaphorical bullet, and instead I get my head chewed off instead. And I don't know what I did to deserve it this time. What the hell is on your mind, Miranda Lawson?" I asked.

She stares at me with a steely expression. I simply return it. I'm not backing down. I want to know what the hell is making the cool and aloof XO of the Normandy all brittle and ready to snap at a moment's notice. Finally, she averts her eyes and she looks somewhat evasive.

"It's…complicated."

"I'm a complicated guy." I said, taking a seat across from her. "And I'm usually a pretty good listener."

"I know, but-"

"But what?" I asked. "Don't you trust me?"

There's a sizeable pause. She seems to weigh her words. And then she speaks.

"As a matter of fact…I sort of do. I mean, it's mostly a trust in the fact that you are a very tricky individual to handle, but…I trust you the most on this ship for someone not named Jane. So really, I only trust the Shepards I am around." She rubs her brow and seems utterly exhausted. "John. Are you sure you want to help?"

I give a hearty thumbs up.

"Anything to see that wonderful smile again."

Hearing that makes her smile slightly, but not much. And then she sighs. She looks me in the eye, and rests one hand on her hip.

"You really want to help me?" She asked. "Then understand that if you go around spreading what I'm about to tell you, I will not hesitate to terminate our relationship."

I just nod.

"I'm good at keeping secrets." I said. She nods.

"Alright. You've cast the die. Let's talk, John."

She waves her omnitool, and the door behind us closes and locks. She looks positively pained.

"Do you remember what I've told you about my father, Henry Lawson?"

A/N: And HERE WE GO! Finally, we start to enter the meatiest parts of ME2. The Loyalty Missions! As a result of the poll, it is clear that Miranda has won for the first loyalty mission to go on. BUT there are still several ties in the poll. So, if you haven't voted, go ahead and vote _but don't select Miranda._ Every other option is fair game!

Hope you've enjoyed this one. I have been waiting to write the next chapter for months and months now.

Till next time!


	24. The Prodigal

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

The fact that Miranda is asking me about her father leads itself to one of two things: that she wants his approval for something, or that she really, really is estranged from the guy. And considering the fact that, in our many conversations together, she's almost _never_ brought him up, I have to guess that this isn't going to end well.

"Yeah, a little." I said. "You aren't on the best terms, right?" I asked. I take a seat across from her at the desk. She nods, but the way her eyes narrow makes it clear that even nodding when thinking about the man is painful.

"That's putting it _mildly."_ She said. She crosses her arms. "I haven't spoken to the man in years."

"Do you, uh, plan on rectifying that?" I asked.

The look on her face is enough to make me shiver.

"Okay, guess that was a stupid question." I said. "So clearly there's a familial issue at play, here." I said. "But before we get into anything, I want to know why you're dragging me into this."

"If we're being absolutely blunt, it's because Commander Shepard is currently nursing a concussion from that botched operation." She said. "She would have been my first choice."

At least she's honest.

"Then what was I?" I ask somewhat jokingly. "Your tenth choice?"

"No, John. You were always my second choice."

Well, that trust in me is both flattering and terrifying.

She takes my stunned silence as an invitation to continue.

"To really understand my relationship with Father, you need to know the sheer extent of it." Miranda began. "Everything, and I mean _everything_ in my life has been controlled by him. He had me…genetically engineered. To be the best. In everything."

"Why on earth wouldn't he just raise you to be the best, knowing that you were eventually going to take over for him?" I asked. "I'm guessing he's a pretty wealthy man. Couldn't he have just groomed you to be his successor in things?"

"If he had only done that much, maybe I wouldn't be here. Maybe I'd be his perfect little girl." Miranda said. "But he didn't. He wasn't really interested in having a daughter. I think he was more interested in building a dynasty. And yes, Jonathan, I am well aware of the egotism that requires. I've raged against it many times in my private moments, both before and after I ran away to Cerberus."

"So you ran away from your father to go to Cerberus." I said. "I get that. The rebellious young daughter running out and living her own life. I can follow."

There's that look in her eyes again. That sharp glitter of immense pain, like she's going to start crying.

"…That's not the only reason that I defected to Cerberus."

Oh man.

She gets up from her desk and walks towards the window, gazing at the stars in the distance. She sighs, and places her hand on her hip as if contemplating the next thing to say. She sniffles slightly, and then slowly turns to face me.

"…I have a sister. A twin. And he's still hunting her."

And now it all makes sense.

"There's another Miranda running around in the galaxy?" I asked. "She looks just like you?"

"Well, 'twin' is an operative word." Miranda said. "She and I are genetically identical, I suppose…but we weren't born at the same time. I'm her senior by…gosh, has it really been seventeen years? Well, I'm 35 now so…yes. Yes, it'd be seventeen years. She's only eighteen."

She was sort of talking to herself as she worked out the internal math, but I'm more interested in the thought of a teenaged Miranda Lawson escaping from whatever gilded cage she was living in along with an infant. There had to have been resistance from _casa de Lawson_ : the fact that Miranda got out of there in one piece along with an infant that wasn't harmed…that's utterly amazing. I blink when I realize that she's staring at me intently, as if waiting for a response. So I do the only thing that I know: I tell her what I was thinking.

She smirks slightly.

"Well, it wasn't easy. But that story is for another time." She sighs. "Cerberus has kept her safe for years, but now…she's living a normal life on Illium, safe from Father."

"The only reason you're telling me this is because you believe that your father has hunted her down." I said. She nods, and I feel an icy pit in my gut. I hate it when I'm right, sometimes.

"Precisely, John. My sources indicate that he knows that she is on Illium, and that he might move to reclaim her." She looks quite stressed. "I've tried to keep her hidden without impacting her life, but I'm out of options." She paces a little bit more, as if reassuring herself that she has run through every contingency. "He's too close. I need to relocate my sister and her family before it's too late."

"What do you know about your sister?" I asked. To an outsider, it might seem like a stupid question. But if my suspicions are correct, Miranda has been a silent guardian in her sister's life…but not terribly active.

"She's my genetic twin." Miranda said. "And she deserves a normal life. And I will do _anything_ to make that possible."

"Well, what about her family?" I asked. "Sis and I were pretty chill about moving because it comes with the territory of being a spacer kid. But if your sister is living on Illium, they probably have roots down there. And I can't imagine that they'd be terribly pleased about moving."

"You are far more perceptive than your outward appearance." Miranda said. "It's a damn shame that you never took a Cerberus job. I imagine you would have been an impeccable field agent." But then she sighs. "Her family knows nothing. They don't know anything about Cerberus or my father or me. Cerberus keeps an eye on them through one of their many corporations disguised as a front, and my sister's mother works at the company. So Cerberus is thinking of telling the company to give the woman a promotion and a relocation assignment away from Illium. It won't be a hard sell: she's exceptionally good at the job and a very capable employee. But if my father finds my sister before that, then it all goes to pot."

"You've told me far too much for this to be a regular conversation." I finally said, after taking a moment to let it all sink in. Miranda nods.

"John I'm…asking for your help in this matter." Miranda said. "My father is extremely persistant, and I know that he will take any measure necessary to get her. All I need to do is go to Illium and make sure that her relocation process goes smoothly. And I'd like a hand." She stares me in the eye. "Can you help me?"

The answer is out of my lips before I even have time to process it.

"Absolutely."

She blinks once, perhaps somewhat surprised at the swiftness of my response. So I clarify.

"This is family, Miranda. I've made far too many mistakes with my own. If I can help you then…maybe I can start atoning."

She smiles sadly.

"Thank you, John." She said. I then reach into my pocket and pull out a cigar. I cut it and light it right in front of her. The fact that she doesn't even complain was as big a sign as any that she was really worried about all of this. As I take a puff from the cigar, I look at her through the cloud of smoke.

"Maybe it's just me, but I think we might need a small fireteam just to be safe." I said. "I mean, it's nice to have two people watching each others' backs, but the saying 'two is company but three is a crowd' is a very welcome phrase in my experience." I pause, and take a shaky sigh before I speak again. "After all, the COBRAs ran in three man groups whenever we did small-scale missions."

Miranda nods.

"You're right. But discretion is the key. I don't want this to become a big deal on the ship, and I certainly don't want the others to find out anything that they don't need to know." She said. She tapped her chin in thought. "We're going to need someone who is reliable, capable in the field, won't ask any frivolous questions, will follow orders with the proper motivation, and most importantly isn't afraid to get his or her hands dirty if things go belly up. And, again, _won't have any scruples._ "

…

"Mr. Massani, do you have a moment?"

He looks up, his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

"What do you want, Lawson? I'm kind of in the middle of something." He grunts. A copy of _For Whom The Bell Tolls_ is in his hands, and he's more than halfway through the novel. Miranda blinks once, perhaps in surprise over his choice of reading material, and then clears her throat.

"I need your help with a mission. No questions asked."

At this, Zaeed smirks, and his good eye seems to sparkle mischievously.

"Well, isn't that something? Miss Cerberus herself comes to ol' Zaeed Massani for some bloody subterfuge?" He sets his book down. "Because it has to be subterfuge, or something you want to keep a goddamn secret. Why else would you ask me first?"

"It is a sensitive matter." Miranda said. And then she frowned. "And you're doing miserably poor at the 'no questions' part."

"Consider it a side effect to staying alive all these years." Zaeed said. "Now, if you don't mind, what's all the goddamn hullabaloo-"

Miranda, wordlessly, took out her omnitool and furiously punched in some numbers. There is a buzzing noise, and Zaeed's omnitool lights up. Specifically, it is a notification in his bank account. He takes a look at the update, and I catch a glimpse of the, quite frankly, _sacriligeous_ amount of money that Miranda has just wired into his account. He stares at it wordlessly, his mouth slightly agape. And then he looks up at us.

"So whose car are we taking?"

…

We rode in a skycar that Miranda had paid for out of her own pocket. The Normandy was locked in place while the ship got some of those cool shielding upgrades that Sis was raving about before she'd been knocked loopy, and some of the members of staff were taking advantage of the impromptu shore leave to get some well-deserved R&R. I was thankful that the Collectors hadn't made a move yet: it was clear that they were very slow-moving creatures. Time was of the essence, sure, but I got the feeling that they didn't really treat Sis and the rest of us as a threat.

That would change.

It was a rather odd sight, the three of us crammed into the back of a skycar. The driver had been tipped by Miranda to just look forward and ask no questions, and had even closed off his part of the car so that he couldn't hear our conversation. Miranda was in her regular gear, but I noticed that she was equipping another Predator pistol for this job. I had my two Carnifex, but it was Zaeed that was really carrying the big guns. He had his Avenger assault rifle, as well as a bandolier of grenades across his chest and a grenade launcher clipped to his back.

"That's…an awful lot of gun for this mission, Zaeed." I remarked. He chuckled.

"Please. Whenever I get called for an extracurricular assignment it pays to be goddamn prepared. Overprepared ain't in my bloody vocabulary."

"Good." Miranda said in a slightly distracted voice. It was clear that we weren't on the forefront of her mind: that would obviously be her sister.

"We're meeting a contact of mine named Lanteia." Miranda finally said as we touched down nearby some glitzy nightclub district. Again, Illium is just Omega with a fresher coat of paint. I will never be convinced otherwise. "All we have to do is check in with her and…and things will be alright."

"Why not ask that T'Soni lady for some help?" Zaeed asked. "If you need info on your sister so damn bad, I imagine she'd be willing to lend a hand."

"Liara and I…aren't on the best terms." Miranda said. "And, again, I want to involve as few people as possible in this. The two of you aren't to be telling anyone about it."

"Fair enough." Zaeed said. "You're paying me enough to zip my lips."

I just silently nod.

We find this Lanteia in the back of some peppy bar and lounge. She's an Asari, which doesn't surprise me considering the name, and she's dressed almost like a police officer. She might actually be a police officer, and Miranda just has the sway to have one of them in her pocket. But either way, Lanteia looks like she's in control.

"Miss Lawson, thank you for agreeing to meet up." She began, shaking Miranda's hand. "We've had…a complication."

"What happened?" Miranda asked. "Is Oriana alright?"

Oriana. That's a pretty name. It's a name that evokes a free spirit, I suppose. Someone full of life and laughter and cheer and goodness. It definitely doesn't sound like someone that would do well in a gilded cage like the one Mr. Lawson would stuff her in. Miranda is a reserved person, but even I can tell that she is positively frantic right now.

"She's fine." Lanteia said. "But…you listed a man named Niket as your trusted source? He contacted me, warning that your father has sent Eclipse mercenaries to make a sweep. He suggested that the mercs might be watching for you personally. He's offered to escort Oriana and her family to the terminal personally."

"You didn't mention anything about a 'Niket.'" I said, turning to face Miranda. Zaeed nods.

"For someone who wants to keep this hush-hush, Lawson, you're doing a bloody awful job at plugging leaks." He said. Miranda ignores Zaeed's quite frankly honest assessment, and turns to face me.

"He's a friend." Miranda said. "He and I go back a long way…"

"Do you want to bring in any of your other Illium contacts on this mission, Ms. Lawson?" Lanteia asked.

"No." Miranda said firmly. "You and Niket are the only two I trust with this information."

"How would you describe these Eclipse bastards?" Zaeed asked Lanteia. "They your typical 'point-and-shoot' dunces or do they look like they have half a brain?"

"They fall into the latter category." Lanteia said. "Because while I've confirmed that they're working for an organization that Mr. Lawson is tied to, they have so far done nothing illegal. I wish we could just arrest them, but that's the way it is."

"Don't worry. Give it a few hours and they'll be breaking all sorts of laws." Zaeed said. "Eclipse never were much for tact."

"It's your sister, Miranda." I said. "What do you want to do?"

"We'll follow Niket's suggestion." Miranda said. "I trust him." She turned to Lanteia. "John, Zaeed and I will take the car and draw their attention. Have Niket escort the family to the shuttle. Give him full access to the family's itinerary, just to be safe."

"Understood, Ms. Lawson." Lanteia said.

"Really? Niket escorts your sister while we get shot down by Eclipse?" I asked.

"Eclipse will be under orders to take my sister alive. They won't risk anything that might kill her."

"Eclipse mercs that understand the problems of collateral damage?" Zaeed asked, marveling slightly. "Your father must have paid a fucking _fortune_ to find those bastards."

"Want to send some backup to this Niket?" I asked. I didn't have the best feeling about this, but it was clear that Miranda was calling the shots here. She shook her head.

"No, that would just draw attention to him. And Niket can handle himself." Miranda said. Lanteia nodded and walked away to notify Niket of the plans. Miranda gestured for us to follow her back to the skycar. As we walked, Miranda spoke. "Thank you, John…for doing this. I appreciate it. I never planned on Eclipse…but I doubt that they planned on you."

"Oy! What am I, bloody goddamned chopped liver?"

"Mr. Massani, I am paying you a fortune. That's my sign of appreciation."

Even the old one-eyed bastard had to chuckle at that one.

…

As nightfall descended on Illium, it became clear that the bait had been taken. And then some.

"Damn it!" Miranda cursed. Around us in the air we could see several Eclipse gunships. We could try to flee, but the only weapons on this car were the exhaust ports, and the little guns we had on our persons. There was no escaping the bastards.

"Eclipse gunships all over the place…" Miranda muttered.

"Well, Eclipse never really understood the goddamn meaning of 'subtlety.'" Zaeed grunted from the backseat.

"Take us down to that cover behind them." I said, pointing to some cover and containers behind the gunships that are currently unloading troops.

"Let's hope that they really do plan to take us alive." Miranda muttered, as she took the car into a nosedive.

The first couple of seconds were somewhat tense. That was on account of some of the Eclipse assholes opening up fire on the skycar. We were alright, but the paint job for the thing was KIA. Then there was a guy in the middle, clearly the commander of the unit, who started to angrily wave off his gunners. So at least this fellow had the idea of fair play. Still, it was a bit of a rough landing. We got out of the car in one piece, but I was in a foul mood.

The merc commander walked up towards us, gesturing for his men to stay back or fall into cover. The gunship flew away. Good. One less thing to worry about.

"Since you're not firing yet, I trust you know who I am." Miranda said. She was also quite peeved with the thought that these assholes hadn't let the car land smoothly.

"Yeah, they said you'd be in the car." The merc leader said. "You're the bitch that kidnapped the boss' daughter."

"Kidnapped?" Miranda asked, highly offended. "This doesn't involve you. Take your men and go."

"Think you've got it all lined up, huh?" The merc commander asked. "Captain Enyala is already moving in on the kid. She knows about Niket. He won't be helping you."

The words seem to hit Miranda like a hammer. So I decide to speak up.

"Maybe we should work this out with your superior." I said. He smirks at me, and I fantasize about putting his teeth down his throat.

"You don't want to talk to the captain. She's not as…polite…as I am." The douchebag said. "She's the best commando I've ever seen. I've seen her tear people in half with biotics. And she's getting paid a lot to stop you."

He's clearly trying to scare me. He has no idea who he's talking to.

"Torn in half with biotics, huh?" I asked. "That's some pretty tough shit. Not quite as tough as what I liked to do to people, though."

"Oh?" The commander asked, crossing his arms in mock interest. "And what did you do, tough guy? Step on their toes?"

"Nah, that's baby stuff. I like kneecapping people. And _then_ shooting them. All in non-vital areas. I like to watch." I said. I notice the commander's eyes widen slightly. Good. "Depends on my mood though. You know how crazy us COBRAs are."

"COBRAs? Never heard of them." The commander said. He walks within arms reach of me, and out of the corner of my eye, I see that there is a moving crane with highly explosive materials moving over a squad of the Eclipse mercs. They're all clearly lining up to take shots on us…and have no idea that their death is right above them. I can sense Miranda and Zaeed getting ready. I look at the poor soul in front of me, and I smirk.

"What a shame. Then die curious."

Quick as a flash, I step forward and grab the bastard by the neck. He might have shielding to protect him from bullets, but he definitely doesn't have it for CQC. I grab him by the head and violently yank, feeling his neck snap with a dull pop. Right next to me, Miranda starts to riddle the lieutenant with a perfect Mozambique drill: two shots to the chest, and one to the head. Zaeed fires his grenade launcher at the crane overhang, causing the materials to get dumped and crash on the men beneath it. It creates a big-ass explosion that sends one man flying. There's a Salarian out in the open that stares at the wreckage, and then at us in shock, before hiding for cover.

There's no movement. So I decide to let them know who they're fucking with.

"Alright, I'm coming out! Any man I see out there, I'm gonna shoot him! Any son of a bitch takes a shot at me or my friends, I'm not only gonna kill him, but I'm gonna burn his damn house down!"

No response. And then…a clattering. Some of the Eclipse mercs legitimately throw their guns over their cover and start sprinting the other way, as if that will somehow save them.

Too bad the three of us are very good shots.

…

We get to the edge of the container complex, and I open a door to get to the next area. There's a dead Eclipse merc, the very one who'd been sent flying, and his communicator is lying on the ground next to him. The person on the other end is frantically trying to get in touch. It's not happening.

"Here's one of their radios." Miranda said. "I'll patch into their frequency and see what we're up against." As we're doing this, Zaeed starts doubling back and scrounging for any loose ammo or credit chits that the other mercs will no longer need. As he leaves, Miranda turns to face me. "John, I…I think I owe you an explanation."

"For what?" I asked. "So you're a lot older than your sister, even though you're genetically twins. That isn't that crazy to me."

"But there's more to the story than that." Miranda said. "Oriana is my twin, genetically. But my father…grew her when I was a teenager."

I feel a cold pit in my gut.

"Wait… _grew?_ " I asked. "What about the mother?"

"Please. Henry Lawson would _never_ allow himself to be tied down to a woman." Miranda said in a very bitter tone. "…She was meant to replace me, Oriana was. I couldn't let her suffer the same life that I'd been condemned to. I had to rescue her."

"Why didn't you tell me that we were saving a kid?" I asked. I pause. "I guess it doesn't matter in the end, because she's your sister. But I wouldn't have minded if you'd told me."

"I…I guess I thought it irrelevant." She said. "I'm very protective of Oriana. There are people who would use her against me. But…I'm sorry that I didn't trust you sooner. You deserved to know."

"Miranda…" I begin. "I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt here, but…you need to tell me how shitty your life was with your father. Because from an outside perspective, it looks like you just kidnapped a girl that couldn't make decisions for herself.

"I'm Henry Lawson's oldest daughter, but I'm not the first." Miranda said. "Only the first one he _kept._ "

The words are like anvils to my chest.

"I was brought up with no friends, pushed to meet impossible demands. I wasn't a daughter to him. I was…I don't know what I was." She sighs, and shakes her head. "Oriana has had a normal life. I made the right decision."

I feel a whirlwind of emotion. I remember Sis and I would always have the run of the ship, with the only restriction being the captain's quarters unless we were invited. And we usually were, because Mom and Dad were always the XO at some point and the two of us were great charmers for adults, just like your regular kids. We were taught respect for our elders, to remember that governance and authority was there for a reason…but that there were rights that we had as individuals and that there was no more powerful word in the galaxy than 'why?' Mom and Dad pushed us, for sure…but they never made us feel unloved. They never wanted anything but the best for _us,_ and not the best for _them._

I wondered what Miranda's childhood was like, with no friends and no relief, and I realized that I was shaking. But not with sorrow.

With rage.

"You don't need to defend yourself, Miranda." I said. "The only thing that you'll need to do is be faster."

"Be…faster?" Miranda asked. I growl.

"Because if you're too slow I might kill your father first."

At this, Miranda smiles slightly.

"I highly doubt that he'll be here in person. He never does the dirty work. But…I appreciate the thought." She gestures behind us. "According to the specs I reviewed, we'll need to cut through the cargo processing yard. Oriana will be on the other side."

…

"I'm wonderin' something, Lawson."

"What, Mr. Massani?" Miranda asked exasperatedly. We're making our way through the cargo processing yard, and it's frustratingly slow going. There are a lot of Eclipse mercs out and about, and the constant movement of conveyor systems make it difficult to establish a good line of sight on any enemies. I take advantage of an overeager Eclipse merc popping out of cover, and put a round in between his eyes. It's quiet, but not for long I imagine.

"This operation was supposed to be on the up and up." Zaeed began. "All quiet, the way it's bloody supposed to. The only ones that know about this shit is you, me, Doc, and that Niket kid. I rule out that Lanteia lady 'cuz even though she's Asari, she don't strike me as that manipulative. And she ain't privy to the inner details of everything. That just leaves…Niket."

"What are you implying, Zaeed?" Miranda asked. She used his first name. This can't be good.

"I'm not as cynical a bastard as you think, but it's a question worth askin': to Doc and I here, Niket's an unknown variable. All we know of him is what you've told us. And with no other bloody context, we're left to assume that he's privy to goddamn everything sensitive. Which begs the question…" He hesitates. If _Zaeed_ is hesitant…

"What?" Miranda snapped. Zaeed turns and looks at her.

"Are you sure that Niket can be trusted?"

Miranda's reaction is to positively sputter.

"What? That's just-I can't believe…Niket would _never_ betray me." Miranda said. "And he's had plenty of opportunities. He could have betrayed me, but he never did."

"Did he know that you had a younger sister?" Zaeed asked.

"He had to have known." Miranda said defensively.

As we make our way through the rest of the docking yard, Zaeed and I share a glance. Miranda, of all people, is making assumptions. And anyone worth their salt in this sort of business knows exactly what happens when you make assumptions.

But for her sake, I hope we're wrong.

The last Eclipse merc falls dead to the ground. I put another bullet through his helmet to make sure, and then we step inside the elevator. It's a long way to the top. Hopefully we get there in time.

Miranda smashes the console with her omnitool in frustration.

"Why can't this damn thing go any _faster?_ " She hisses. But eventually it starts to speed up.

For a moment, we ride in silence. Miranda is fidgeting. _Fidgeting._ And then she speaks.

"What was your father like?"

"Don't remember him." Zaeed said. He was being honest. That left me. As we make our way up higher, I begin to talk.

"He taught me how to play baseball." I said. "Was so damn proud of me when I learned how to throw a splitter."

"You can throw a goddamn splitter?" Zaeed asked, clearly impressed. "That takes some bloody dexterity, Doc."

"It's been a few years." I chuckle. "But yeah. He took me to any games whenever we were stationed planetside…and there were teams present. Sometimes it was the big leagues on earth, and sometimes it was barnstorming games on colony worlds that you had to dig through the local extranet ad pages to find 'tickets.' Big or small, we saw it all." I take a deep breath. "He taught me that, above all, the best thing to do in life was to be faithful to your family, and be willing to do what was right even if you had to risk the consequences of doing so. And he was adamant that every action we made in this life was owned up to. He didn't raise people who shirked their responsibility. He loved Mom. He loved Jane. And he loved me." I can feel the tear starting to form in my eye. "And I miss him every day."

Zaeed stays respectfully silent, and gently pats me on the back. Miranda does something I never would have expected.

She takes my hand, and squeezes it gently.

"He seems to have raised a good man." She said quietly, and just like that she's let go.

I'm too busy wondering where the hell that act came from to wonder whether or not what she said was the truth.

…

I was fidgeting around with my iDroid. I tend to do that. Every now and then, the signal gets corrupted by outside interference and I have to readjust the station. And who knows what I'll get on the other end. And every now and then, when I readjust my iDroid piggybacks on local comm frequency. Sometimes it can even pick up conversations! It's a marvelous device, and I hate everyone who gives me shit about it because it's "old."

This was one of those times. But instead of getting fuzz and interference, I got something on a local radio frequency. It might have been Miranda's piggy-backing of the Eclipse signal doing it, but either way there is a buzzing and crackling as I readjust the device, and then a trio of voices come in through my loudspeaker as clear as day.

" _You don't understand, I have authorization to change their booking!"_

 _"I'm sorry, sir. We're under security lockdown. Until the situation in the cargo terminal is resolved, no passengers can be rebooked_. _"_

 _"This isn't worth my time, Niket. I get pai regardless of how the girl gets there."_

Zaeed and I can feel a storm brewing, and for a moment I wish I wasn't in such a cramped space. And I can't bring myself to look Miranda in the eye.

We open the door to the elevator…and there they are. There's a customs agent talking to a young human male with somewhat brown skin and a beard, and there's an Asari sitting on a crate. She's wearing faded and beat-up Eclipse armor and I can tell from the surliness that radiates off of her that this must be Captain Enyala.

"No! I was told that I could handle this my way. We're not traumatizing the family any more-"

Niket's words die in his throat when he sees the three of us approaching. Miranda and I draw our pistols, while Zaeed cagily pulls out his assault rifle.

"Miri…" Niket said, after a moment to see us in the dark. Enyala snorts slightly.

"This should be fun." She said in a somewhat sadistic tone, and she pulls out a big-ass assault rifle. The customs agent recoils slightly, and takes a moment to run away.

She gets about three steps in before Enyala's rifle punches a fist-sized hole through her back, and she tumbles lifelessly into a pile of crates off to the side. The Asari did it as casually as if she'd been ordering a pizza. The lady meant business.

"Niket." Miranda said. Her voice was steady, but her face was a mask of heartbreak. "You sold me out."

"Your call, Miranda." I whisper in her ear.

"Why, Niket?" She asked, her voice cracking slightly. "You were my friend. You helped me get away from my father…"

"Yes! Because you _wanted_ to leave." Niket said. "That was your choice! But if I'd known that you'd stolen a baby…"

"I didn't steal her, I rescued her!" Miranda snarled.

"From a life of wealth and happiness?" Niket responded. "You weren't saving her! You were getting back at your father."

I stare at his shabby clothes, and the way his shoes seem worn and dirty. There's a tired and baggy look in his eyes, and his jacket is fading in some places and wearing thin in others. And now it all makes sense.

"Grow up poor, Niket?" I asked.

"Yeah. I bet you did too." He said, looking at me. "I can see the look in your eye. You understand. You know what it's like to…to be on the outside looking in."

"I was a spacer." I said. "Never had a lot of money. Didn't have to worry about housing, admittedly, but the salary still wasn't great for mom or dad. So we had to make things count. And I saw a lot of privileged kids out there that I would have loved to beat the shit out of."

"Then you understand why I did it." Niket said. "You understand that…that just because Miri wasn't happy somewhere didn't mean her sister was also going to be unhappy."

There is silence. And then I snort.

"How much?"

"A great deal." He said.

" _Damn it,_ Niket! You were the only one I trusted from that life." Miranda is on the verge of tears.

"Your father knew that." Niket said. "That's why he bought me."

"So you just…took his money?"

"Don't get holy with me, Miri. You took his money for years." Niket growls.

"Oy, there's a big difference between being born into somethin' and getting bribed out, you goddamn rat." Zaeed snarled from the side. "Runnin' away was the first bloody choice she got to make in her life." He leered. "But you wouldn't know that, would you pup? All you ever saw were the goddamn credits. The life of the beautiful people. What a bunch of horseshit."

"Come on, Niket. Let's waste this bitch." Enyala said.

"Take your best shot." Miranda snarled.

"I was waiting for you to finish getting dressed." Enyala said. "Or does Cerberus really let you whore around in that outfit?"

It's a wonder Miranda doesn't shoot her there.

"I'm afraid that the ship's sailed." I said. "Sorry Niket. You might not like Miranda any more, but Oriana has a family now."

"Her father can give her a better life." He said.

"You don't know _what_ my father wants for her!" Miranda snarled.

"I know that I've been poor." Niket said. "I didn't care much for it."

"My _god_ I've met Volus less greedy than you, kid!" Zaeed snarled.

"He wants to take her away from the only family she's ever known." Miranda said. "Doesn't that tell you what kind of person he really is?"

I can sense the powder keg we're all sitting on. So I move to do what I think Sis would do in this situation. I bargain.

"Your father has to know about Oriana by now." I said. "We need a new solution. We have to get her out of here."

Then I see Niket look…hesitant? I have no idea what it means, but then he speaks and turns the world upside down.

"Mr. Lawson has…no information about Oriana." He said. "I know that you have spy programs built into communications, Miri, so…I kept it secret. I'm the only one that knows." He finally said.

Miranda looks like she's gonna cry.

"Which means that you're the only loose end." She said. "This isn't how I wanted it to end, Niket. I…I'll miss you."

She raises the gun.

I don't know why I didn't just stand there. Everything about that louse in front of us made me sick. He was never really Miranda's friend, in the end. He just saw her as someone in money who didn't really like her position in life, and in the end was swayed so easily. He was willing to throw away a young girl's family just because of a few credits. And I doubt that Mr. Lawson would let Oriana's parents just walk away. If anything, he'd kill them in front of her. All of my instincts told me to let her pull the trigger and end it.

But I didn't act on my instincts.

I grabbed Miranda's hand, and force the gun upwards. The round fires harmlessly into the ceiling.

"Let _go,_ John." She said. "This has to end here. My father will still keep looking for Oriana. She'll never be safe."

I look over at Niket. There is an understanding that passes between us, the understanding that a life debt is now in effect thanks to my actions. And he wastes no time attempting to balance.

"I'll tell him that you beat us to it." He said. "He'll never know about Oriana, and I'll tell him I just don't know where she is." He said. Miranda looks relieved, but still heartbroken.

"I _never_ want to see you again, Niket."

"I know. I'm sorry, Miri-"

There is a gunshot, and he crumples lifelessly to the ground. Enyala ejects the spent round.

"Done. Now, if you don't mind, I have a shipment to collect."

I can feel the biotics tensing next to me, and I barely have time to get out of the way.

" _ **You'll die for that, bitch!**_ "

Miranda throws Enyala across the room, and in a blind rage rushes after her.

Leaving Zaeed and I to deal with the rest of the mercs.

…

"FUCK!" I manage to shout as I barely get behind cover.

"God _damn_ if this op don't get messier and messier!" Zaeed grumbled, firing at one of the mercs. "How about you, Doc? You holdin' up?"

"I'll live." I grunt, firing a one-two tap at a merc that brings him down.

"Good! I was gettin' worried. Thought Miss Sunshine over there was gonna rend you in the collateral." Zaeed said.

An explosion far away from us throws a few shipping containers up in the air.

"Wanna watch the fireworks?" Zaeed asked with a cheesy grin.

"We need to get to Miranda. I don't want that Enyala getting two Lawsons in one day."

"Fair enough." Zaeed said. "Too bad I don't got my camera. Biotic cat fights are the _best_ cat fights."

I snort, but then another explosion renders us both stone-cold serious.

We make our way through the shipping containers towards the back of the yard. Zaeed makes a hell of a backup. We cut through the mercs left and right, and it feels like we have developed a sort of sixth sense for each others' movement: I shoot while he reloads, and he shoots while I reload. Not a single Eclipse is able to get a good shot on us, and soon I find myself…enjoying it all. Zaeed plugs one of them in the head from afar, and chuckles darkly.

"Damn, Doc! You'd make a helluva partner. What do you say we go into business together after this Reaper shit, and make goddamn millions?"

I never thought that a good colleague of mine would be a crusty old one-eyed merc who reads classic literature and might secretly be a member of MENSA, but then again my life has been flipped and turned upside down so much over the past few weeks that I have stopped trying to make sense of it all. So I just shrug.

There is another explosion, this one even bigger than the others combined. We look at each other, and hustle towards the point of impact as fast as we can.

We find Miranda on her knees in the middle of a smoking crater. She's breathing heavily, and she's sweating slightly. We look around.

"Where's Enyala?" I ask. Zaeed looks around.

"By the looks of it, Doc, I'd say she's over there…and there…and there…and up there."

I wince. But then I see Miranda's face. She looks like she's about to cry. So I do the only thing I can.

I holster my pistols, and I gently help her back up to her feet.

She doesn't let go of me as we walk towards an elevator.

"I…I can't believe that Niket sold me out." She said in a quiet whisper. "I didn't even see it coming…"

"It's okay, Miranda." I said. "You're human, just like the rest of us."

"But I let it get personal…and I screwed it up." She looks up at me. "Why didn't you let me kill him? I could have handled that. But watching that Asari bitch do it…"

I look at her.

"You could have handled it in the sense that you know how to pull a trigger and put a round through a head." I said. "But it would have haunted you. Forever. That's not worth it. It's _never_ worth it."

She stares at me, as if peering deep within my soul. She sighs.

"You're right." She finally said. The elevator begins to move down. "And my father used it against me." She closed her eyes. "It's always been like this. My father gave me anything I ever wanted, but there was always a string attached. There was always something that fit into his grand plan. When I ran, I tossed away everything that I cared about…except Niket." She looked away. "Weakness on my part."

"Don't say that." I said.

"Why not?" She asked. "He ended up costing me in the end. Why shouldn't I have just thrown him away?"

"Because then you'd be just like me!" I burst out in frustration. There is a stunned silence. I sigh, and close my eyes. "Because then you'd be just like me. Broken. And alone."

She stares at me with what looks like sympathy in her eyes. A sad look crosses her face.

"You're not alone, John." She finally said.

"Neither are you." Zaeed said. "You got your sister, right?" He asked. "That's something most don't always get to say."

"Mr. Massan-Zaeed, you're right." Miranda said. "I suppose I have my sister. And that means everything to me."

…

We make our way out to the departures terminal some time later. Zaeed looks around, and confirms that there were no Eclipse mercs in the vicinity. Somehow, we did it. We'd pulled it off. And then Miranda looked forward.

"There she is. With her family."

I look in that direction, and I see Oriana. It's from a distance, but I can absolutely tell its her. She's in very animated and excited conversation with her family. No doubt they're talking about the promotion that her mother just got, and how exciting it is to move. They have no idea who pulled the strings for that. They have no earthly idea. They're exactly as Miranda would have wanted. A normal and quiet life.

"Come on. We should go."

I know what she's doing. She's doing what I did, all those years ago. She's putting up the wall again. To keep herself safe. To keep her family safe. To protect them from all dangers and problems. And most of all, to protect them from her. It's noble in a sense, I suppose.

But all it gave me were years of misery, alcohol, and drugs. I know that they often say that if you were asked to do it all over again is a pointless exercise in what-ifs, but as fate was my witness, here was a physical and honest representation of that very concept in front of me.

I grab her by the wrist.

"What are you doing, John?" Miranda asked. I take a deep breath.

"Yeah. It's probably the best course of action to stay out of her affairs to let her grow as her own person. And it might be the smart and logical decision."

"You're right. It's not about me. It's about what's best for her. She's got a life. A family. I'll just complicate things for her." Miranda said.

I shake my head.

"What's best for her is a lot of things. And life is complicated, in and of itself. Even when we try to keep our hands off." I said. I look at Oriana, who's just told a joke that's made her parents both laugh as hard as she's laughing. This might be the happiest she's been in a while. I turn and look at Miranda, and when I speak I feel some sort of weight lifting off of my shoulders.

"But would it really be so bad for her to know that she has a sister who loves her?"

Miranda looks at me, and then looks at Oriana again. She speaks softly.

"…I guess not."

She looks at me, and then at Zaeed. Zaeed gives her a genuinely warm smile.

"Take all the time you need, Miranda." He said gently. "Doc and I are in no hurry."

She looks back at me and smiles, and then takes a deep breath. And then she walks towards the girl that she's sacrificed so much for.

We watch her get the attention of her sister and her sister's family. It doesn't take long, but the look of realization and awe on Oriana's face as she realizes that she has a sibling is one I will never forget. She practically tackles Miranda with the force of her hug, and even Oriana's parents seem pleased to know that their daughter has someone else in the family. And the look on the face of Miranda is one of pure relief and joy. The tears are flowing. And when we leave to head back to the Normandy, Oriana and her family are waving goodbye (after demanding that Miranda stay in touch with her), Miranda looks like the most content woman in the world.

…

We arrive on the Normandy some time after dark. Miranda looks utterly exhausted. She wishes us both good night, and then disappears off to her office. Zaeed looks over at me.

"See you in the room, Doc."

And with that he disappears off to the room down in the bowels of the Normandy. I take a somewhat circuitous route to get there. But as I round the corner…

…I come face to face with Sis herself.

"Sis!" I said. "You're looking in good shape."

She folds her arms across her chest.

"So I wake up from a nap a few minutes ago, and I check in with EDI." She said. "And while I wasn't that surprised that a good chunk of the non-essential crew checked out for a day or so of shore leave, what _did_ surprise me was the knowledge that you, Miranda and Zaeed all left the Normandy some time early in the afternoon, and didn't get back until almost a day later. Normally I don't pry into this sort of thing, but I have to ask. What the hell were you guys doing?"

I open my mouth to speak, and then I hesitate. I think of all of the moments that I've seen today. The Eclipse mercs. Niket. Oriana and her family, and her future. Miranda's look of relief in the end. And I remember that she'd held my hand when I had threatened to fall myself.

I think on all of these things, and then I shrug.

"Side op."

Sis raises an eyebrow.

"Side op?" She asked. The skepticism in her voice is quite thick. I just shrug again.

"Side op." I repeat.

She looks at me and narrows her eyes suspiciously. But then she smiles and chuckles.

"Alright, if you say so. I haven't gotten a call from Illium police, so I have to assume that you three didn't rob a bank or something." She said. "I have to say, whatever it was did the trick. Miranda looks a lot more relieved." She yawns. "I have some clerical stuff to take care of. We'll take later, ok?"

I nod, and she smiles and walks away. I wonder what it is that she's smiling about, but I think nothing of it.

I'm tired and need a shower.

After I take a shower and change in comfort fatigues, I open the door to the room to see Zaeed Massani kicked back in his chair with his feet up on the desk, back to reading _For Whom The Bell Tolls._ I also notice that he has another book primed right next to it. _The Revenant._ He notices that I've arrived, and clears his throat.

"Family's a goddamn complicated thing." He said. He reached into his pocket. "Some of us don't have the most straightforward one, and some of us don't even got one at all. Not by blood anyway." He pulls out a pair of cigars, and cuts them. "But I gotta say, Doc: when you know you got it, it's the best goddamn feeling in the world. Even to a bitter old bastard like me." He lights his cigar, and then offers me the other one. "To commemorate the Lawson family?"

I look at him and smile.

"Light me up, Zaeed."

I take the cigar, and lean forward so that the grizzled old merc can get his lighter working. It doesn't take me long before I'm puffing away. And as I stare at the joyous family reunion before me, and take in the beautiful day around me, I feel a warm and fuzzy feeling in me that I haven't felt in years.

And it makes the taste of this cigar all the sweeter.

A/N: And thus concludes The Prodigal! Hope you enjoyed it. I had a blast writing it. We're digging into the loyalty missions right now, though there may be a break in the middle of them to handle a certain unintentional infiltrator…we'll see!

Till next time.


	25. Lamentations

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

It had been several days since Miranda met Oriana. It was a busy couple of days, to be honest. With the arrival of Tali, the Normandy had been working overtime in order to install these state-of-the-art shield boosters. Normally, I would have thought such a project to be a bit of a boondoggle. But according to Garrus, Sis was adamant about installing them for a reason: the Collectors had ripped through the original Normandy's defenses like a hot knife through butter.

So perhaps it made sense that Sis wanted to minimize the likelihood of her dying for a second time.

I spent my spare time, much like I had been ever since I'd gotten on the Normandy all those weeks ago, getting back into shape. I was always pretty lucky when it came to exercise: I didn't lose a lot of muscle over the years of my self-imposed exile…but did gain a little bit of a gut. I wasn't fat by any definition, but I used to be a lot more toned than what I looked like when Janey first found me in Omega.

But thanks to constantly throwing people around in the gym as well as a constant presence in Sis' missions was causing me to be a little less embarrassed when I stared at myself in the mirror. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that I was starting to look like what I looked like all those years before: big and bulky, and able to go toe-to-toe with one of those N7 assholes that Sis always complained would hit on her during training.

I was starting to look like I did before Torfan.

I guess part of my willingness to work myself to a frenetic pace was both a means of getting in shape as well as a form of running away from the problems. I knew that I was gonna have to face them at some point. But…that could wait. Right now there were more pressing problems.

Like getting this stubborn son of a bitch to tap out.

I have to give Jacob Taylor credit: he's a bit of a dullard, but considering the vast multitude of dysfunctionality that has infested the Normandy, his level-headedness is a nice reprieve from everything else. He's good to chat with about random bullshit that has nothing to do with the mission at its core. If anything, he's the only one on the ship (with the exception of Sis) that consistently keeps up with baseball scores back on earth, and enjoys teasing me about being a fan of such a shitty team. (That lucky bastard gets to root for the Cubs, who took something like ten World Series in a row from the 2160s into the 2170s)

He's also a bitch to fight.

Grappling isn't a recommended course of action, because I think Taylor trained in some sadistic form of catch wrestling that teaches its students to move in not _quite_ the way you think they will, which automatically throws you for a loop. And he's fast, so you can't really chase him around. Just have to wait for him to make a mistake.

That doesn't happen often.

I shoot for the legs, intending to take him down right onto the canvas mat. We hit the canvas hard enough to shake the ring, but I don't have any time to celebrate because I realize that the bastard got a guillotine chokehold in on me while we were going down. Stupid. Should have led less with the head.

My head is swimming and I know that I'm fading fast. I plant my feet underneath me, and slowly try to lift him up to a standing position. I must look red as a tomato. I flail my arm up and around the back of his neck, and at the same time I grab around his thigh. With the last of my conscious effort, I pop my hips back and throw him over my shoulder. We both hit the canvas with a _**BANG**_ , but it jarred Taylor enough that he loosened the hold, and I scuttle out away from him. I'm seeing stars and I can hear my pulse slamming against my temple: that's how close the bastard was to choking me out. I roll over and lay on my back, trying to get my breath.

That's when Taylor lunges for me, looking to get full mount control.

But I was waiting for him to do that. I grab one of his arms and yank it towards my opposite hip. At the same time I wrap my leg around his head, and clamp down on my shin with my other leg. I got him locked in the best triangle choke I've thrown in ages. He turns purple, and then taps out. So I let him go.

There's a smattering of applause from some of the crewmen that were watching, and we both help each other to our feet. Jacob just smirks and shakes his head.

"Damn. I gotta stop falling for that." He mutters. I shrug.

"You almost had me this time." I said. "A little tighter on the choke and I'd be snoring." Jacob just rolls his eyes.

"You don't need to pretend, John. You were a trainer for the academy once upon a time, you know."

"Yeah." I said. I scrunch my face in thought. "Did I ever get around to teaching you? My memory isn't always the best with every student I beat up."

Jacob laughes.

"No, I just missed you. And then I joined the Corsairs. We had our own little differences in training from the regular Alliance grunts. In fact, I think the Corsairs borrowed a bit from the COBRA unit."

My smile fades. He recognizes that he might have touched a nerve.

"Shit. I didn't mean to-"

"No, you're fine." I said. "It's just…" I sigh. "I gotta get changed. You just reminded me that I need to meet up with Samara."

Jacob nods, and we do a little fist-bump handshake sequence that guys do. As we leave the ring, I could have sworn I saw what looked like Kasumi hiding in the rafters, staring after Jacob with a dreamy look in her eyes. But then we made eye contact, and she seemed to melt away.

…

Truthfully, I was starting to worry about Samara. Our last few sessions were going alright, but even I could tell that she was distracted about something. And considering how cryptic and quiet she is to begin with, that's really saying something. I figured that she trusted me enough – though god only knew why – to the point that if I asked her what was wrong, maybe she'd tell me. She wouldn't kill me on sight, at least.

But when I open the door to her observatory, I see that she is not alone. Thane is already there. And so is Sis.

They all turn to see me.

"Oh, hello Jonathan." Samara said. "I forgot that our scheduled session was coming up."

"We'll only be a few minutes, Bro." Sis said.

That set off my bullshit detector on so many levels. First of all, Samara _never_ forgets fucking _**anything.**_ I saw the way her eyes shifted. And whenever Sis says that something will only take a few minutes, then it's going to take a few days. And Thane looks uncomfortable too. This is all kinds of wrong.

And I hate being lied to.

"Bullshit." I said. "What's going on?"

There is a silence. And then Sis speaks.

"John, this doesn't concern you." She said.

"Don't you _John_ me, Sis." I growl. "If there's something the matter, I want to help. If nothing else for the fact that it will let me get this goddamn meditation out of the way."

There's another silence.

"Perhaps he can help." Samara said.

"Are you sure?" Sis asked. "You said that you wanted to keep this private."

"I did. But I trust Jonathan." Samara said. "He is not someone to gossip for the sake of gossip."

Sis sighed and nodded.

"Alright, John. Close the door and we'll talk."

I do as she asks, and then turn to face the rest of the group.

Samara looks at me, and she seems very sad about something.

"I was just telling your sister and Thane here, right before you walked in, that I have a personal matter that must be attended to." She said. She turned around and faced the infinite expanse of space in front of us. "When we met on Illium, I told you all about a very dangerous person I was pursuing. Using the information that Jane attained, I have located her."

Thane's eyes widened slightly.

"Are you certain?" He asked. Samara nodded.

"She has been going by the name 'Morinth.'" Samara said. "I would like to apprehend her before she disappears again."

"How important is bringing in one criminal?" I asked. Samara turns to face me.

"Killing her has been my focus for 400 years, Jonathan." She said. "It is the most important thing in my life and the reason I became a Justicar."

"Didn't you say that you would pick up her trail after the mission, though?" Jane asked.

"I know where she is. Right now." Samara said. "In a month, she may be gone. Perhaps even in a week. This is the best opportunity I've ever had."

"You said that you tracked her down." Thane said. "Where is she now?"

"Omega." Samara said.

Of fucking course.

"She is in a nightclub called 'Afterlife.'" Samara said. "It seems as though it is a perfect place for her to hunt."

"There is a certain degree of poetic cruelty that she be in such an obvious choice of hunting ground." Thane said.

Both Jane and I look at each other. Clearly Thane and Samara are friends, and know a lot more than we do. It's starting to bother us. So Jane pipes up.

"Tell us about her." She said.

"She is an Ardat-Yakshi." Samara said.

"I'm not familiar with that phrase. And, um, I know a little bit of Asari." Sis said, scratching the back of her head awkwardly. There's a little bit of a blush on her cheeks, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course Sis' idea of impressing her beau would be to learn a little bit of the language. She might try to come across as a super badass, but Sis is a regular softie.

"It is a term from a long-dead Asari dialect." Thane said. "It means 'demon of the night winds.'"

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I came to trust Thane during our short time working together." Samara said. "I told him of my mission in life, and he made a promise that he would always look for signs or clues that the one I hunt is nearby." She paused. "It was ultimately thanks to him that I knew to look for Morinth on Illium." She then turned to look at the two of us. "But to call her by the translated phrase is to grant her a form of romanticism, giving in to mythology. She is simply a very dangerous woman who kills without mercy."

"So does being an Ardat-Yakshi make her a special kind of murderer?" Sis asked.

"Morinth suffers from a rare genetic disorder." Samara said, now once again looking out to the stars. "When she mates with you, there is no gentle melding of nervous systems." She does not mince her words. "She overpowers yours, burns it out, and hemorrhages your brain. You end up a mindless shell, and soon after you are dead."

I notice that Sis has gone white as a sheet.

"And she can't abstain?" I asked, mostly to kee the flow of information going and to give Sis time to get over the shell-shock of what was clearly _not_ how her encounters with Liara had gone.

"Each encounter gives her strength." Samara said. "The effect is narcotic; the more she does it, the more she needs to do it. She will never stop. She _can't._ " Samara honest-to-god narrowed her eyes in cold fury at that last bit.

"You'd think that something like this would be mentioned in Asari literature or art." I said, frowning. "After all, humans have no trouble referencing murderers. Jack the Ripper is _still_ getting some mileage these days, despite the fact that it's been over three hundred years since the murders he may or may not have committed. And he only killed about five people. If this Morinth has been doing this for hundreds of years, then she has to have a body count close to Pol Pot or Stalin."

"When we were…primitive, there was much fascination with Ardat-Yakshi." Samara said. "Some cultures worshipped them as gods of destruction. Now the Asari have a place in the galaxy, and they don't wish this defect to be widely known."

I scowl.

"That reeks of cultural elitism, Samara, and you know it." I said. "The Turians have never hidden the fact that they believe in war, and are willing to accept the horrors that come with it. The Salarians live up to the fact that they only have a short lifespan. The Krogan are stigmatized with the Genophage. And us humans?" I let out a low whistle. "It seems like all of our dirty laundry is public knowledge. Racism, religious warfare, genocides, phobias towards sexuality and gender identity…and yet throughout all of it the Asari have somehow remained above the fray." I narrow my eyes. "I knew that was too good to be true."

"John!" Sis said, snapping out of her horror trance. "That was uncalled for!"

"He…has a point." Samara said finally. "I may be Asari, but the life I live has essentially divorced me from society at large. I can see the hypocrisy rooted in Thessia. I suppose that is why I never felt an urge to enter Asari politics even before I became a Justicar." She then turned to look at us. "But this is not a wide-spread epidemic. As far as I know, only three exist today. Two chose a life of seclusion. The other ran."

"Morinth." Sis said. Samara nodded.

"She ran," Samara said. "And I am sworn to kill her."

"Is it so bad to yearn for freedom, if the only option is to be cooped up in a cage for the rest of your life?" I asked.

"When she ran, she proved her addiction." Samara said. "She was not taking some great moral stand – she simply wants to keep killing. I have followed a trail of countless bodies to serve as the evidence. She is a tragic figure, perhaps, but _not_ a sympathetic one."

I realize that I have perhaps overstepped my bounds, and I fall silent. Sis decides to cover the rest of the bases.

"So you hunt down these Asari that have a genetic disorder?" Sis asked. "I might not have worded it as… _bluntly_ as Bro might have, but I see his point: to us, it sounds a little bit like back on earth, where the subject of your sexuality could lead to a lifetime of ostracization, terror, and even killing."

"The condition manifests with maturity." Samara said. "When one is diagnosed, she is offered the chance to live in seclusion and comfort. If she refuses, it shows her addiction to the ecstasy she gets from killing her mates. There is no redemption for such a person."

"Their only choices are prison or death?" Sis and I ask at the same time. I feel a sort of protective urge towards my sister. Janey's sexuality never bothered me (if anything, it served as a great deal of humor that we could both talk about crazy exes…and know _exactly_ what the other was going through), and it never bothered Mom or Dad. But listening to the clinical way that Samara describes this "condition" and the punitive measures taken to cull it, and it's no surprise that we're a little bit repulsed by what we're hearing.

"It is an addictive condition." Samara said. "Remember how adaptive the Asari are. If Morinth does not want to be cured, then she won't be." She then turns to look at the two of us. "Do not confuse my clinical nature or the condition of the Ardat-Yakshi as a greater metaphor for how we view relationships. For centuries until first contact with other species, Asari were mating with one another. We have no problem with how you were born, or to whom you are drawn to as a potential partner. What we _do_ have a problem with are people like Morinth, who are in possession of an incredibly dangerous defect and instead of taking steps to combat it for their own good and for the greater good…choose instead to engage in hedonistic, selfish pleasure. To compare Morinth's condition to your sexuality, Commander Shepard, is to compare apples with dining room tables: there is no comparison."

It takes Janey a split second, and then she turns bright red and starts blushing.

"What? But I never-how did-"

Samara smiles slightly.

"Over four hundred years of detective work, remember?"

"Okay, let's move on." I said, trying to save Jane some dignity at the rather casual way Samara has figured her out. "Isn't Morinth, in theory, just dangerous to everyone that she mates with?"

"Each time that she kills, she becomes stronger, smarter and faster. And she's been doing this for 400 years." Samara said. "She confuses her victims and twists their feelings. They will do anything for her favor, even if it means their assured death."

Sis has recovered, and she steels her expression.

"We need to stop her."

Samara closes her eyes and smiles slightly. But it is not a happy smile. It is more of a sad smile.

"Thank you Commander." Samara said. "There are no words to express what this means to me."

We start to walk away, and then Samara speaks again.

"There is something more."

There always is.

"What is it?" Sis asked. Samara does not turn around to face us.

"This creature…this monster…she is my daughter."

Sis walks back up to Samara, and gives her a big bear hug. Samara seems somehat surprised at the gesture, but gingerly returns it. Sis breaks the hug, and I see a twinkle of a tear in her eye.

"I am so sorry, Samara." She said. "You said the condition is genetic. How many children do you have?"

"Three." Samara said. "And there are three Ardat-Yakshi in existence today. It is as it sounds. Morinth was always the wild one – she was always happy and free. But selfish."

"I have encountered a few kills over my time that can only be attributed to an Ardat-Yakshi, though to an untrained eye they look like a brain hemorrhage victim." Suddenly, Thane's pupils dilate, and he's speaking to no one in particular.

 _"The door is open, though the lock was not broken. The owner of the apartment clearly was expecting company. There are scattered rose petals on the ground, and a trace of lavender incense wafts through the air. Her body is on the bed in the upstairs bedroom, where the lavender and the petals are at a critical mass. She is unclothed and spread eagle, looking up to the ceiling. But her skin is paper-white, and her eyes are glazed and unseeing. Blood leaks out of every orifice, and the look on her face is that of someone who has only just too late realized the horror she has given herself to. But by then it is too late. I say a prayer to Kalahira that this woman suffer no more, and I search the room for evidence. There is none._ "

He blinks, and snaps out of it.

The first time that I witnessed Thane do one of his memory-lapse things, it was really fucking creepy. The way his eyes got black like an Asari about to embrace eternity, and the flowing and un-stumbling manner in which he enunciated every word. Now I'm just used to it.

"It is a terrible fate to be killed by an Ardat-Yakshi." Thane said quietly. "I have killed many people in my life, but I can take a small comfort in knowing that I always did so in a manner that produced the least suffering. Mostly."

"My daughter's condition is my fault." Samara said. "And my redemption lies in killing her." Samara said. She looked at us. "Do not pity me. Simply understand my situation."

"How did all of this happen?" Sis asked.

"I spent my youth on the move." Samara said. "I adventured, killed people, mated with them, or just danced the night away." She is pacing now. "I learned so much, experienced so much. And then my Matron days came. I could finally sit back, bask, and enjoy my family. But it was all taken away from me."

There is a great sorrow in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Samara." I said. Sis and Thane are respectfully silent. Samara continued.

"I sat in a med lab while a near-sighted doctor droned at me. And I learned that nothing was as I thought it would be." She looked at the stars. "I gave up all that I possessed. I own nothing. Claim nothing. All my knowledge will die with me…Now my purpose is to destroy my own children."

It is moments like these where I really doubt the existence of a higher power if someone has been led to believe that their purpose in life is to destroy their own flesh and blood.

Samama looks pained.

"I say too much." She finally said. "Help me find my long-lost daughter…and kill her."

Sis lets out a deep breath. And then she turns to the rest of us.

"This is the sort of thing that requires a low-key approach. Don't spread it around the Normandy. EDI, that means you."

" _Affirmative, Commander. I shall not tell anyone._ "

That's somewhat creepy that the thing was listening to the entire goddamn thing.

"I shall be held to a code of silence." Thane said. "I have helped Samara in certain manners when it came to hunting her daughter. I should like to see this through to the end."

"I'll go too, because otherwise I'll burst wondering what happened." I said.

Samara gave a sad smile.

"Your kindness is more than I ever could have asked for. Other than the few times I have interacted with Thane, I have shouldered this burden alone." She said. "Come. We must set a course for Omega, then."

…

 _"The daily death count in Omega is too high for me to pinpoint am Ardat-Yakshi's location._ " EDI's voice chimes in our ears as we set foot back on that wretched hive that I'd spent the last few years of my life. The Normandy was docked at a private station, and was far away from any scavengers.

"Well, I could have told you that." I said.

" _However, given the reputation of Ardat-Yakshi among the Asari, Aria T'Loak may have tracked her movements._ "

I freeze a little bit. I look over at Sis, Thane and Samara. They seem unperturbed by the fact that we might have to talk to the ruler of Omega. Sis looks over at me, seemingly reading my thoughts.

"How do you think we found out about Mordin or Garrus?" Sis asked. "Aria was willing to talk to me. Here's to hoping that she's willing to talk to us again." She sighed. "Though that does mean that we have to go back into Afterlife. Not exactly my type of fun."

I just stare at her. She shrugs.

"What? I can't be a hedonist, I have a reputation to keep up."

I just roll my eyes.

Getting into Afterlife was easy. The Elcor bouncer took one look at us and spoke.

"With resigned recognition: Oh, it is you Shepard. I imagine you wish to speak with Aria."

"That's right." Sis said to the massive creature. "So could you page her?"

"Indifferently: Very well. She is where you expect."

Man, it is amazing that Elcor have been able to last as long as they have in the galactic world with that tell of theirs. I bet they're shit at poker.

Afterlife is loud, full of flashing lights, and a whole lot of sweat and perhaps other bodily fluids. The bartenders are trying to keep up with the neverending stream of young and excited partygoers, human and Asari and otherwise, and I see the dancers gyrating on poles high above us. The music is loud and sounds like a child banging on pots and pans in the kitchen. I wish I could play my iDroid headphone jack, but I know that I need to be on my best behavior. It isn't every day that you get to meet the queen of Omega, after all.

We're let up a stairwell to what looks like a private ounge that perfectly overlooks the entire nightclub. There are some armed guards in the lounge, and one of them steps forward with a biometric scanner.

"Hold still to be scanned." He grunts. Samara, Thane and Sis are indifferent. But when the Batarian gets to me…

I grab his arm and twist it painfully behind his back in a hammerlock.

"Try it and you'll be scanning the inside of your colon." I growl.

There's laughter. A figure in the shadows sits on the couch in front of us.

"I'd almost _pay_ to see that." But then the pleasant lilt to the voice fades into ruthlessness. "But that's not an option. You want an audience with me? You get scanned like everyone else."

And so I let the bastard do his job, and I find myself gazing upon the queen of Omega herself.

Aria T'Loak somehow managed to radiate power, control, devil-may-care indifference, cold calculation, sex appeal, and danger all in one package. She's sitting on her couch, with one leg crossed over the other. She stares at Sis and the others, and then speaks.

"Well, Commander, you've certainly changed up your posse." She said. Her voice is like poisoned honey, sweet and yet dangerous all the same. "Now you're holding court with Thane Krios and an Asari Justicar. The last time you were here, you had Zaeed fucking Massani and some stripper dressed like a Cerberus operative. My, how things change."

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"Don't talk about Miranda like that."

The lounge goes silent. The guards turn towards me with dumbstruck looks on their faces, as though they can't believe I'm that stupid. Aria looks at me with an amused smirk.

"And you've dragged in Doc Halladay, drug addict junkie from the projects." She said. "You're definitely trading up from a little one-room apartment in Omega, wouldn't you say?"

But then her eyes narrow, and she looks at me intently. And then she look at Sis. And then back to me. Her eyes widen slightly, and she looks honestly surprised.

"Well, I'll be damned." She said softly. "I'm seeing double."

"What are you talking about, Ma'am?" The Batarian guard asks. Aria chuckles.

"I thought I was getting a meeting with Shepard, that badass bitch from Elysium." Aria said. "I didn't think that I'd be meeting the Butcher of Torfan too."

The Batarian looks horrified. And then enraged.

"Die, scum!" He roars, lunging at me with a knife.

I side-step his charge, grab his arm, and then break it at the elbow. I flip him head over heels so that he is flat on his back, and I break the arm again at another angle. The other guards flinch at the sounds of his howling. Aria just tsks.

"You had that coming, Grann." She said. "A Batarian picking a fight with the Butcher? You're lucky he didn't just shoot you." She gestures to one of the other guards. "Get this whelp out of here, and set his arm."

Grann is led whimpering out of the room. Aria looks back at us.

"Your reputation precedes you, John." She said. "I guess I should have known it was you before, but all that shaggy hair and beard did wonders for a disguise." She gestures for my face. "I bet my dancers here would swoon if they knew what you looked like under all that fur."

"How did you know he was my brother?" Sis asked. Aria laughs.

"Please! I know everything and everyone that slums around in my station, Shepard." She gestures for Sis to have a seat on the couch. "And I keep tabs on everyone. Your brother here adhered to the One Rule of Omega. So he was never a concern."

"That rule being?" Thane asked. Aria didn't even bother looking at the Drell.

"Don't. _Fuck._ With Aria."

"I would have guessed." Thane muttered to himself. Aria rested her hands in her lap, and stared at Sis.

"I'm guessing that this meeting wasn't about reuniting family." Aria deadpanned. "You clearly need information. I'm certain that I have it. What do you need?" She asked.

"An Asari fugitive is hiding out here." Sis said. "She's an Ardat-Yakshi. We need to find her."

To our surprise, Aria goes rigid and a sneer curls on her lip.

"I knew it." She hissed. "Nothing leaves a body quite so…empty…as an Ardat-Yakshi does."

"You haven't taken steps to kill her?" Samara asked, somewhat flabbergasted despite her reserved nature.

"Why would I? She hasn't tried to seduce me." Aria said. An utterly selfish motive, but then again Aria didn't get to be in charge of this station by being a girl scout.

But then Aria does something that I don't think anyone has ever seen her do before. She gets hesitant.

"Her last victim was a young girl. Pretty thing." Aria begins. "Lived in the tenements near here."

No.

She turns slightly so that she is making eye contact with me. She looks me in the eye and I see the one thing that I never wanted to see.

"I think you might have known her, Joh-"

I don't hear the rest of her words, because I take off running. I hear Sis shout my name, but it doesn't register. I clothesline the guard out of the way, and sprint down the stairs. I crash into dancers, bouncers, and attendants as I barrel through the doorway of Omega. Some drunken party-goer tries to grab me to get me to apologize to his bros. I break his arm at the collarbone, and throw him into the wall.

I burst through the door, out into the open of the street.

No. No, she's got it all wrong.

I race through the streets, retracing my steps that I'd made so many times in the years before. A pair of human muggers try to jump me in an alley. I shatter one's jaw, with a punch, and then break the other one's leg, and I keep moving.

It's a mistake. It can't be true.

And there I am, in that street that has no name. I whirl around, my eyes wide and the tears starting to stream down my face. My body has figured it out, but if I don't believe it then it doesn't have to be true. I can change the reality simply by denying its existence. I just have to will it to be. I can.

Who am I kidding.

I see the congregation leaving the church, that tiny little building that I used to look down upon in the past and yet now see it as a beautiful and tragic little building, trying to survive against the encroaching madness and horror of this pointless galaxy and its rotten existence. They're all dressed in black.

No.

I see Father Hidalgo leading them out of the church, a solemn expression on his face. A lone tear in his eyes.

No…

And then I see her. She's in the center of it all, surrounded by those of us that stayed, those of us that loved her. Those that didn't jump on some ship to a suicidal mission and leave this all behind. Diana is dressed in black, and she is keeping a brave face.

And then she turns, and we make eye contact.

I stagger towards her, like a drunk. The thoughts are racing through my head. This cannot be real. It is a cruel joke. It is all a lie. I will wake up and this will all be a dream, a terrible night fever induced by too much alcohol and too many drugs. She will tell me that it's all a mistake, and that I had a simple nightmare.

I get within arm's reach of her, and her brave façade finally breaks.

"Oh, _DOC!_ " She wails, throwing her arms around me and sobbing.

There is no point.

It's all a cosmic joke.

I want to vomit. To rage. To beg. To crawl.

But all I can do is hold Diana in my arms, and give her what little comfort I can. The others surround us and try to make us feel warm, but there is no point.

Nef is dead.

Another innocent soul I couldn't save.

A/N: After a break, I have returned! After the reconciliation of Miranda with her sister Oriana, I have gone for the next loyalty mission as voted by the fans. This is probably going to be the second-darkest loyalty mission in terms of digging deep into John's psyche. For those of you that were astute, you will remember that Nef, the girl killed by Morinth in ME2, was a friend of John Shepard's during his self-imposed exile on Omega. I decided to expand upon her character a little bit, but I did so with a sense of regret because I knew that she was canonically doomed. He came to see her as a little sister, someone that he could look out for as a sort of redemption.

And now she's gone. Killed by Morinth for no other reason than because she could.

And in doing so, as we all know, Morinth has signed her own death warrant.

See you next time.


	26. The Bloody Butcher

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

"I just…I just don't know why this happened. Nef was such a sweet girl…"

We're sitting in Diana's living room now. She is on the couch, dabbing at her eye with a hankerchief. Father Hidalgo is sitting next to her, a comforting arm on her shoulder and a Bible resting on his knee. Diana has insisted that I sit next to her as well, by virtue of refusing to let go ever since we embraced in front of the church. Sis and the others are here as well.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that Sis, Thane, and Samara were running after me as soon as I had taken off through Afterlife. It was only a few moments after Diana had collapsed into my arms that I'd felt the sturdy hands of Sis on my back. We'd made our way into Diana's apartment, and the rest of the community had understandably given us some space.

I have to say, Sis was a fucking angel. There was just something about her that radiated calm, cool, and gentle. That last one was the key. I know plenty of people who, after losing a loved one, will shut down and refuse contact with the outside world. And yet Sis is one of those rare creatures that is able to tease out some degree of interaction with them. The kind of person that would wade into the River Styx in order to get your head out of it.

After all, it's what she did for me when Dad died. Pity she wasn't there when I landed on that rock looking for revenge.

"Why don't you tell us everything that you know?" Sis offered gently. Diana sniffled, and settled down a bit. She refuses to let go of my hand.

"It's…it's been a week. A week since they found my baby." She said. I try not to vomit as the icy pit in my stomach hits me full force. She's been gone a week. A whole fucking week and I didn't know. What was I doing a week ago? Helping Miranda. And I'd been on Cloud Nine.

At the very same time, Diana had been told that her baby had died. I'm starting to wonder if this life is nothing but a cosmic joke.

"The medics said it was a brain hemorrhage, but that's not true." Diana said, a degree of firmness in her voice. "It was murder. Someone killed my Nef, my baby…"

"Diana…" Sis said. "I believe that she was murdered too. And we're here to look for the killer."

"Who are you, then?" Diana asked. "The police?"

"Not exactly." Sis said. Father Hidalgo speaks.

"She is Commander Shepard, the modern-day Lazarus." He said. "Anything that she does she does outside of the law. Not that there is law here on Omega."

"Is this the first time that such a tragedy has hit your parish, Father?" Sis asked.

Sis was always far more respectful of religion than I've ever been. Perhaps it's just the sheer difference of the life we've lived, but I've never once heard her curse God. Or any deity for that matter. I remember when we were sitting in Nos Astra waiting for the Normandy to get re-fueled, Sis had stepped inside a little chapel. Crossed herself and everything. She keeps the faith, I suppose.

A far cry from me.

"There have been those that wandered to us on the edge of their life." Father Hidalgo said. "Sometimes the best we can do is ease their suffering until the end comes, and then give them a burial that befits them. But…" He sighed. "This is the first time that someone so enmeshed in my flock has been killed, yes."

"You…believe me?" Diana asked.

"With every fiber of my being." Sis said. Diana sobbed.

"Oh, thank you! It's so hard when no one listens to you. I'm…all alone now." Diana finished her words in a near-whisper. She then raised an eyebrow. "Are you all…working for Aria?"

"In a manner of speaking." Sis said. "But we're here to help. Does it matter who sent us?"

"No one else on this hell-hole station gives a damn that my baby girl is dead." Diana said, the rage clear in her heartbreak. "But if you can do something about it, I'll help you however I can."

At this, Sis clearly looks awkward. She turns to Father Hidalgo.

"Father, what I seek to do cannot possibly be condoned by the Church. Or is there something deep within the Scripture that might, if not necessarily condone it, at least understand it?"

Father Hidalgo closes his eyes for a moment, and lets out a deep sigh. And then he adjusts his glasses on the brim of his nose and finally speaks.

" _And Ehud came unto him; and he was sitting in a summer parlour, which he had for himself alone._ "

" _And Ehud said, 'I have a message from God unto thee.' And he arose out of_ his _seat._ " Sis finished. " _And Ehud put forth his left hand, and took the daggar from his right thigh, and thrust it into his belly._ "

There is silence for a moment.

"You…know the Bible, Commander?" Diana asked. Sis shrugs.

"I was always a fan of King James." She said. "It made the old stories seem…mighty, I suppose. Written in a manner befitting the Kingdom of Heaven."

"Though we sit here in a hellhole like that of Sodom or Gomorrah, I suppose that you have come to us as a messenger from God." Father Hidalgo said. "To the killer, a chance for penance is a must. But if there is no other option…" He gets up from his seat. "Diana, I shall be in the chapel. I know what must be discussed, but perhaps I should not hear the details."

He bids us farewell, his implicit blessing even in his absence, and as he leaves I can feel Diana shudder against me. This is a woman whose faith has led her through some dark times on this terrible station. And to be robbed of her daughter is cruelty of the highest order. But if god won't bring back Nef, then I suppose that we can deliver unto him the bitch that killed her.

"What was your daughter like?" Thane asked. "Anything helps, ma'am."

"My Nef had a fire inside her. She was shy, but she was creative and driven and…the best girl a mother could hope for." Diana said.

"She was creative?" Samara asked, speaking for the first time since we'd entered the room. "How so?"

"She was a sculptor..an artist." Diana replied. "Several galleries were interested in her, said her work was fresh."

"Did Nef hang out anywhere in particular?" Sis asked.

"She was always quiet, working here at home. Doc and I would tease her a little bit to get out and live it up a bit!" Diana smiled with nothing but sadness, and the bitterness in my gut only worsens. If I'd known, I would have locked that girl in her room, forced the galleries at gunpoint to buy her work, and use the proceeds to get her and Diana right the fuck off of this fucking station. Diana continues. "Then, a few weeks ago, she started going out all the time, to the VIP area of that club down the street. I think you need a password or something to get in there."

No...

"Who told her about Jaruut?" I asked.

Everyone looks at me.

"Come again?" Sis asked. I sighed.

"It's a stupid bullshit code. The bouncer doesn't let you in unless you say that this club is pretty hot. And when he asks you who you heard it from, you say that 'Jaruut' told you that this was the place to be. The fucker doesn't even card you." I said.

"How…could you possibly know that?" Sis asked.

"I spent many a night drunkenly wandering the streets, Sis. And sometimes just pretending to." I said. "You hear an awful lot when people think you're a pickled hobo."

"The change was so sudden…" Diana said. "She just seemed…tired and distracted when she wasn't around Morinth."

That name. The word attached to this wraith that took away one of the few rays of sunshine in this twisted and pointless galaxy. The signal of the demon, and the one I have sworn myself to destroy. My rage burns within me like a simmering fire, and for a moment I imagine myself. With my hands around this phantom's throat.

"Did Nef have a lot of friends?" Sis asked.

"Not a lot, no." Diana said. "She was shy. Spent most of her time off making her sculptures, not hanging out with friends." She then narrowed her eyes in thought. "Something did change in the last week or so. She started talking about an Asari. Morinth."

"I see…" Samara said.

"I didn't like her." Diana said with disdain. It was radiating off of her, and if she wasn't in the shape she was in I imagined she wanted to kill Morinth herself. "She kept dragging Nef out to clubs, and I'm pretty sure she gave my daughter drugs."

The thought of little sweet Nef, so shy and naïve, being induced into taking red sand or something even worse made my blood boil. I am seeing red. I would pray to a god for serenity but right now there's none that come to mind. I close my eyes, and I know that the others can feel my anger.

"What kind of person was this Morinth?" Thane asked.

"I never met her, but Nef talked about her like she was a queen." Diana said. "You'd swear there was no one else alive when she talked about Morinth."

"That sounds familiar…" Samara said.

"Samara, does Morinth control her victims with drugs?" Sis asked.

"She controls them through sheer will." Samara said. "The drugs are just a lifestyle. She loves the club, loves the bass. She's a hedonist."

"How do you know so much about her?" Diana asked. "Do you know this Morinth? Did she hurt my daughter? Is she the one that…that…?"

"I have been investigating similar murders for…some time now." Samara said. "Morinth is something of an obsession to me. I will find the person who did this, and bring her to justice."

"As God is my witness, we swear to you that Nef will rest easy soon." Sis said.

"I hope so…" Diana said. "I hope…so… _oh, my baby!_ " She wails, and begins to cry again. Sis walks over, sits next to her, and puts an arm around Diana's shoulders. Then she speaks to the room in general.

"Diana, would you mind if we looked at Nef's room?" Sis asked. "Do you have any objection to that?"

"I haven't changed or moved anything since…" Diana said. "Everything is the way she left it. The way it will always be. My baby is gone. She's gone, and-"

Sis interrupts her and gives her a hug. Diana's makeup is running, and the tears are flowing.

"Thank you…" She whispered. "I'm sorry. I just miss her so much."

"It's okay." Sis said. "We all have suffered loss here. We know your pain."

"I know what it feels like to lose a daughter." Samara said. "I swear to you, I will avenge her."

"Thank you." Diana said. "Please. If it helps you find her killer…look through her things."

…

Nef's room is spacious for a tenement apartment, and it is very pleasing to the eye. Fitting for a sculptor. The primary thing to find has been taken care of. I know how to get into this nightclub: right now we're simply looking for anything else that we might have missed. Thane glances at a small sculpture.

"This is impressively fine art." Thane said. "The attention to detail is extraordinary. The kind of thing that requires patience, gentle and steady hands, and a divergent mind."

"Nef made that." Diana said. "A man from some gallery offered me four years' salary for it…But I'd never part with it."

I stare at it. It looks like a torch of some kind. I turn to Diana.

"What exactly is it?" I asked. Diana can barely meet my eyes.

"It's…nothing of circumstance. She said that the inspiration came to her one day, and that she wanted to show y-she wanted to show you." Diana said. "She had such an adorable crush on you, Doc. I hope you don't mind that."

I smile sadly.

"No. Diana, I'm…I'm flattered really." I said.

"Who's Forta?" Sis asked, holding up a note. "Someone said that Nef should look at his art."

"He's an Elcor artist of…a certain infamy." Thane said. There was a measured distaste in his voice as he spoke, a rarity for the Drell. "I do not understand the counter-cultural aspect of modern art that seems to cultivate madness, but his work is a staple of that field."

Last but not least is Nef's holodiary. Sis walks over to it, and fires up the hard drive. There are only three entries of note. Naturally, Sis presses play on the oldest one.

There is a whirring, and a bust of Nef appears. She looks both excited and unsure of herself. She looks exactly like I remember her.

" _Hey, diary. Cycle 34, orbit 671. There's a lot to talk about!_ " Nef's image said. " _I dropped Jaruut's name, and they let me into the VIP room at Afterlife. I was sure everyone was staring at me. Then…the most beautiful Asari starts dancing near me. She moves like water; form and volume but shifting, changing. I'm in a trance. Then I'm dancing with her! Later, we went for skewers, and I'm supposed to see her again tomorrow._ "

"Read the middle entry." Sis commanded the holo-journal.

Nef doesn't look as bouncy and bubbly and uncertain as before. There's a life to her eyes…but there's also something somewhat glazed about them.

" _Cycle 36, orbit 671. Am I a freak? Morinth is a girl like me, and she's definitely not human. Just…when we dance, and the Hallex is flowing through me…the way she looks at me…with a hunger, a longing…No one's ever looked at me like that…We kissed tonight."_

I feel bile rising in my gut, and from the way Sis' shoulders are tensing I know that she's feeling the same way. But what must be done must be done.

"Read…the newest entry." Sis said with a degree of hesitation.

She looks completely possessed. The exuberance…the giddiness. It's not her. It's not Nef. It's a puppet dancing on a string that's about to be cut.

Fuck this Morinth.

" _Cycle 42, orbit 67. She's going to take me to her apartment tonight! Whatever happens, I want to be with her forever. She can sell my pieces. We can live somewhere glamorous…like the women in Vaenia, that vid Morinth likes. How did this happen to me? I'm just dumb trash from Omega."_

I've heard enough.

Somehow I stagger back out into the street, ignoring Samara's words on how this is clearly the work of Morinth. I wobble a little bit, and I stare upwards into the stars. Or the higher vents of this goddamned station.

I drop to my knees. I don't even feel the jarring pain. After a moment, I become aware of a sound.

It takes me another moment to realize that it is my own howl of grief...and rage.

…

After some time of me just sitting there on the dirty concrete ground, I feel another hand on my shoulder. It's Sis. Wordlessly, she lends me her hand and lifts me out of the muck. We quietly walk back into Diana's apartment. Diana has left us, and is quietly sobbing in her room. Thane and Samara are waiting for the two of us, and as soon as we re-enter the building, I find myself speaking.

"Tell me everything, Samara."

At this, Sis raises an eyebrow and looks at me.

"What for, bro?" She asked. I look at my sister. For someone so brilliant and kind, she could be really dumb.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm gonna kill her."

Sis' eyes widen.

"No, John. I can't let that happen. I won't let you barge in guns blazing into wherever it is that Morinth is hiding." She said.

"And it would be a foolish endeavor." Samara said. "Morinth will no doubt have a hundred escape routes planned if she senses anything that is out of the norm. To mount a full-frontal assault would send her to ground, and I may have to wait another fifty years. Maybe even more. This is the closest that I've ever been."

"I don't care how it's done." I said. "Just know that I won't sit on the sideline." I stare off in the direction of Diana's room. "That bitch killed someone I cared about. Anyone who does that gets to spend the rest of their increasingly short life in complete agony." I turn towards Sis. "Don't you _dare_ tell me I can't help."

After a moment of silence, Thane speaks.

"Perhaps there is another method of catching Morinth." He said. "Elusive jungle cats are wise to open tricks. But if disguised in the manner of bait…"

"That's…that's brilliant!" Samara said. "Thane, you read my mind."

Considering that these two know each other quite well, it doesn't surprise me. I have half a wonder if there was ever a relationship between the two of them at some point, considering the way they interact like an old couple. Sis raises an eyebrow.

"So…you think that someone should go to the VIP lounge of Afterlife, and then just draw Morinth to them? And then the rest follow?"

"Precisely." Samara said. "But whomever goes into the club will have to do so alone and unarmed. Otherwise Morinth will sense the trap and flee early."

"Then I'll do it." Sis said.

"Not a chance."

She turns to look at me and scowls.

"Don't question me, Bro."

"Don't pull rank on me, Sis."

"Don't be insubordinate, _John._ "

"Don't be so righteous, _Jane._ "

" **Enough!** "

Samara's amplified voice startles both of us into silence. Samara's eyes stop glowing white, and she blinks once before speaking.

"This is no time for sibling arguments. There is no point and the longer we spend waiting the more likely Morinth is to pick another helpless victim from the throng of party-goers in Afterlife. We have to make a decision now."

I look over at Sis.

"Janey, you're a badass. You solve so many problems that it makes my head spin. And you've got an impeccable track record for resolving issues in the best possible way." I shake my head. "But you're too much of a soldier, too beholden to this idea that justice and honor and goodness always go hand in hand, and above all you don't have the hate in your heart to willingly want someone dead." I pause. "But I do."

"John, you're way smarter than you give yourself credit for, but let's be honest." Sis said. "You're volatile, moody, a loner, and prone to impulsive decisions that can do you more harm than good. And you're right: I don't have that same hate that you do…but the fact that you have it worries me."

Something she said sticks with me. I turn towards Samara.

"What's Morinth's favorite type of prey?" I ask.

"She is attracted to artists and creators." Samara said. "Someone with a spark, slightly isolated from their peers. She impresses with sophistication and sex appeal. Then she strikes. The hunt interests her as much as the conquest."

I turn towards Sis.

"If there's one thing about you, Sis…it's that you aren't a loner. Far from it. No one would buy you coming into Omega's hottest night club by yourself. Not anymore, anyway." I see that look she gives me. Sis got her growing pains out of the way as a rebellious teen just like anyone else. Of course, she did something that most teens have a shitload of trouble with. She grew up. "Morinth won't buy it."

"…But she'll buy you?" Sis asked. I can see the hesitance in her eyes. She doesn't want to do this. But I'm getting through to her. So I play my trump card.

"When it comes right down to it, Sis…and things go belly-up…who would be better for the galaxy to be dead? The Lioness of Elysium and the savior of the galaxy…or the Butcher of Torfan?"

Her silence is all the answer I need. And then a tear rolls down her cheek.

"I can't lose you again, John." She whispers. I wipe the tear off, and give her the best smile I've got.

"I promise, Janey. I'll come back to you. I'll come back to you and tell you that this club is worse than that night at Club Feve."

Despite herself, Sis starts cracking up. Thane and Samara look at one another confusedly, uninformed of the inside joke between myself and my sister about the worst night out the two of us ever had. And they will remain uninformed.

…

Despite eventually signing off on the plan, Sis couldn't bring herself to do nothing. So she decided that she was going to stay with Diana that night. "She's all alone right now in her darkest hour, and depending on how this night goes she's going to need someone." Sis had said. "If I focus on her misery, perhaps I can forget about my own fear."

Somehow that just made the pit in my gut even worse.

After some walking down the street towards the nightclub, Samara pulls Thane and I off to the side in a back alley. It's the last prep before the hunt. Samara looks at me.

"Jonathan, be mindful of just what danger you are getting yourself into. I will be watching, but I will not be able to intervene until the last possible moment. And Thane will not be with you in Afterlife. Morinth has been doing this for hundreds of years. She has recognized the time where I had partners, and I could not bear to let her injure Thane as collateral damage." She said.

I look at Thane, who wordlessly nods. I can tell that he is concerned for me as well. But unlike Samara's concern, Thane's is something else. Something understated. Something dignified. Something fatherly.

"Tell me what I need to know." I said. Samara nods.

"Morinth speaks to you on many levels." She said. "Her body tells you that she'll bring unimaginable ecstasy. Her scent evokes emotions long hidden. Her eyes promise you things you were always scared to ask of another. Her voice whispers to you after she is done speaking."

If I didn't know any better, I'd accuse Samara of describing a shitty fanfiction. But then she speaks up again.

"You must go in alone – Morinth will be watching. Like any predator, she is cautious. You must pique her interest enough that she will approach you. When you are face to face, subtly encourage her to invite you to her apartment. I'll follow discreetly and when you are alone, I'll spring the trap." But at this, she pauses. "Know this; until I get there, you are in great peril. She will be planning to inflict horrors on you. If you are not careful, you will want her to."

I just stare at Samara.

"That's nothing." I said. "Compared to what I plan to do to her."

"Be careful that your bravado and rage do not blind you from the reality." Samara said. There is a lilt of chastisement in her voice. "Morinth is not one to take lightly." She then looks over at the club. "She admires strength, directness, and vigor. Modesty, chivalry, and meekness frustrate and bore her. Violence…violence excites her. You've killed before, Jonathan. She will like that."

"Any specifics?" I asked.

"Courage or suicidal bravery could attract her. Hurt someone in defense, and she'll be excited. Pick a fight, and she'll be bored. Show skill at working smoothly through a nightclub crowd, and she will be intrigued." She pauses again. "Jonathan, she will want you the moment that she sees you. The rest is simply about overpowering her caution."

"We're done talking." I said. "All that's left to do is get her."

"I will always be watching, Jonathan." Samara said. "This I swear."

I nod, and then something hits me. I turn to Thane.

"Thane."

"Yes, John?"

"I don't have a god to pray to. Do you Drell have…someone who deals with this sort of thing? Some sort of arbiter of vengeance?"

Thane is silent for a moment. Then he clasps his hands together, interlocking his fingers, and begins to speak.

"Amonkira, Lord of Hunters. Watch over this one. Guide his hand to be steady and his aim to be true. May his footsteps be silent as the encroaching nightfall. May his resolve be that of iron. As in all things, show favor to he that participates in your greatest of tribute: the hunt. And if the worst shall come to pass…grant him forgiveness."

Amonkira, Lord of Hunters. I like that. Something about it, but I like it. I turn towards Samara.

"I am ready."

She gives me a hug, and with that I step out of the shadows.

…

The bouncer is a Turian male, and he looks really bored. As soon as he sees me, though, he wakes right up.

"Whoa, whoa. No entry, man." He said. I frown.

"Really? Because I heard from someone that this was the hottest nightclub on Omega."

At this, he looks curious.

"Oh, really?" The bouncer folds his arms across his chest. "This person sounds pretty smart. Do I know them?"

I smirk.

"I think you're good buddies with Jaruut."

The bouncer's expression softens. He steps aside.

"A friendly warning." He said. "You start a fight, and we'll throw you out. But if someone attacks you, then you've got full right to defend yourself."

I puff out my chest.

"Anyone that starts a fight with me is just asking for an ambulance."

Despite himself, the bouncer smirks.

"I can imagine, human. You're approaching Krogan size, yourself. Watch that some of our dancers don't start throwing themselves at you: humans aren't terribly common in Afterlife VIP, if I'm comfortable enough in my own sexuality to say that you ain't bad looking. Chicks dig the facial hair, for some reason." He lets me in.

I walk past him, take a deep breath, and enter the place.

…

It's oppressively hot and fucking loud. In comparison to Afterlife's jangly, almost ethereal beats, it sounds like I'm in a rave on the front of a running freight train inside Afterlife VIP. I stare in front of me, seeing the reddish hue that dominates this place, and I take in my surroundings.

I was wise to change out of my duster and "combat" gear, and was instead dressed in clothes that wouldn't leave me out of place at Lollapalooza. Khaki pants, a black leather jacket, and black biker boots. On the left breast of my jacket there is a faded logo. It looked something like a fox, but I'm not sure if I'm looking at it right. I look nothing like my Alliance days, or even like my recent romps with Sis.

I look like I'm ready to cause trouble.

My first encounter is with some slobbering kid at the door.

"Dude, I just got approached by the most amazing Asari, man." He said. He has to be a college-age kid, and it's clear that this is his first time in a nightclub. "You got tickets to this one band-" The name doesn't register so I don't pay attention "-I gotta score with her so bad, dude!"

I grab him by the scruff of his neck.

"I'll save you some time." I growl. "She isn't really interested. You need to go home and study. And right now I'm looking for someone to beat up. Do you want that to be you?"

He pales. The glazed look in his eyes disappears, and there's a sudden sparkle of innocence in them as he seems to realize just how out of place he is in this shithole.

"N…No…" He murmurs. Within a flash, he's bolted out the door and returned to wherever he lives on this station. It doesn't take a genius to determine that the Asari that was seducing him was Morinth. And yet here I was, a rough guardian angel, scaring him back into reality. I wonder how many of her victims would still be alive today if there were more encounters like that.

One down. Are you watching, Morinth?

I make my way to the dance floor, where I find myself moving a little bit to the beat. I notice that an Asari is dancing close to me. We're in one of those awkward limbo situations where _clearly_ both parties want to get together, but neither of us are sure that the other wants to. So I decide to be the instigator.

"I'm just gonna start dancing." I said. "If you wanna think that you're dancing with me, go right ahead."

"Mmm…I _do_ wanna think that!" The Asari said.

I'll give Janey credit where credit is due: I can see why she has a preference for Asari.

After bidding that girl goodbye (receiving a kiss on the cheek and a number in my back pocket for my efforts) I find myself stumbling on another scene. One of the Asari dancers is currently being accosted by a rather sleazy looking Turian.

"Don't be like that, baby. Look, I got creds. We'll go back to my place – I got simple tastes."

It's a wonder I don't catch an STD just by standing next to him.

The girl's dressed in a hot red number, but there's something to be said about respecting employees of such an establishment. She shoves him in the shoulder.

"Back off, asshole! I'm a dancer, not a hooker." She snarls.

He smirks. It's like a shark.

"You got a mouth on you!" He said. "I'll enjoy watching you use it."

He grabs her roughly by the wrist.

And I see red.

I grab him by the shoulder. Gently, at first. To warn him.

"The lady asked you to leave her alone." I said. My tone is low and calm, but the Asari dancer knows that I mean business.

"What the hell?" The Turian slurs. "I'm just looking for a good time –this isn't your business."

"She's not your business either." I said.

"You wanna fight, human?" He grunts, putting up his fists. I smirk, and shrug.

"Sure. Go ahead. I'll give you one shot. But if you miss-"

One of the best things about sparring with a Turian like Garrus Vakarian is that he is not only a meticulous sniper, but also a student of hand-to-hand combat. I have learned so much from the guy it's a wonder I haven't sat down to write a book. And he keeps kicking my ass, so it's a constant state of humility. But there is one thing that he's taught me that I am very proud of: the fact that Turians, when drunk and/or cocky, always lead with a swinging outside hook. It's just a matter of guessing from what side.

So I block his flailing punch, and wrap his arm behind him in a hammerlock. And I finish my sentence.

"-You're gonna regret it."

A couple knees to the gut, and a stomp on the foot for good measure, and I pick the bastard up and chuck him to the ground. He moans, but doesn't get back up to challenge me again. The dancer looks at him, and then me.

"Thanks for that." She said. "Security was asleep."

She walks past me to return to her post. As she passes, she brushes up awfully close, despite the fact that there's no one around us to require her to be so close. It takes me a good five minutes later to realize that she slipped me her number.

But it was intentionally missing a digit. That woman is utterly brilliant. When she becomes a Matriarch, she will put most politicians to shame, I imagine.

I walk up towards the bar to catch a breath, and the bartender immediately gestures me over.

"On the house, buddy." He said. "That Turian asshole has been skeezey to our dancers and workers for a while now. I had half a mind to throw him out, but you humiliating him might have done the job for me. So consider this my appreciation."

I nod.

"Gimme the James Bond."

He smirks.

"Shaken or stirred?"

I can't resist.

"Does it look like I give a damn?" I asked. He laughs, clearly amused by the presence of another pre-contact Bond fan, and sets to work pouring my drink.

That's when I notice that there's a very nervous looking man standing next to me.

"Can I help you?" I asked gruffly.

"Um, yes? Maybe?" He began. "I just need help right now, and I don't know who to ask. You're human and you don't look high, so…you're it. Can you help?"

I shrug.

"I'm not gonna tell one of the dancers that you're a billionaire, if that's what you're asking."

He goes red in the face.

"No, nothing like that!" He said. "This is about whether someone gets killed."

"You've got my curiosity." I said, as the bartender hands me my drink. The man in front of me takes a deep breath.

"My friend Moirall is doing a piece on Omega gangs. She's hanging with Florit – he's the worst of the worst."

I blink once.

"Florit?" I manage to choke out through my drink. I laugh a little bit. "Dude, your friend is playing with fire. He's no one to fuck with _or_ do an expose on."

"Yeah, and she's going to get burned." The man said. "See, Florit's on to her. His gang is on the way here, and they're going to make a mess of her." He glances over to the booth in the back, and I see Florit with a pretty lady. Florit looks as rotten as ever. The poor girl has no idea who she's messing with. "I need to get a message to her, and fast!" The man said.

"Calm down." I said. "What do you want me to do?"

"She and I have a code." The man said. "If you go over there and say two words to Florit, my friend will get the message and get out of there."

"Okay, so assuming that I get her out of there, what happens next for the two of you?" I asked. "Florit isn't just going to drop a vendetta simply because the woman runs away."

"Well, I've already booked us two tickets on the next flight out of Omega to the Citadel." The man said. "It leaves in an hour. I've packed things up in our apartment and everything!" He sighed. "But even when we're on the Citadel, Florit could chase us, I guess. I just hope C-Sec can protect us."

I feel a surge within me. Someone in front of me is looking out for someone he clearly loves. Forget "friends," this man clearly thinks the world of that woman. I can tell by the frantic way he keeps darting his eyes over to her. I couldn't save Nef. But maybe…

"Alright, I'll do it." I said. "On one condition. Well, rather, two."

"What?" The man asked. I reached over across the bar and grabbed a pen, and took a napkin as well. I scribbled something, and pressed it into the man's lapel pocket.

"When the two of you are safe on the Citadel, you mail this contact information." I said. "And…" I smirk. "When you get to the Citadel, you need to man up, get her out to one of those quieter restaurants on the Citadel and tell Moirall how you _really_ feel about her. Deal?"

He blinks once in surprise that I've figured him out. But then he seems to recognize that he's got a lifeline here, so he nods feverishly.

"What are the words?" I asked.

"Say them in a sentence or two, but they must be in this order." He said. "Terminal. And then Eternity. You got that?" He asked. I nod.

"Yeah…" I said. "Yeah…I got it. Just know this. As soon as you get Moirall, you need to run. Just _run._ Understand?"

He nods.

So I walk over to the booth. Moriall is in an understated dress, a violet number that looks positively black in this darkly-lit hellhole. Florit is dressed garishly, and he looks up at me with a fake degree of kindness.

"You need something, man?" He asked.

I clear my throat.

"Any of you mugs know where I can find a public terminal around here?" I asked.

Florit snorts.

"You're in the wrong place, bub. This is a _nightclub_ , not a wi-fi station. Besides, you don't got an omnitool?" He asked.

"That… _is_ a strange question." Moirall said. There is a hesitance to her words, though. I can see the gears turning. Subconsciously, she knows exactly what I'm getting at. She just needs it to be confirmed.

I sigh, and I hold up my iDroid.

"Blame me for being the dumbfuck that invested in this piece of shit." I said. "Great for music, but whenever I need to do long-distance or intensive work I've had to rely on your standard public terminal for what feels like an eternity."

Florit laughs at my supposed foolishness, but I'm not looking at him. I'm looking at Moirall. More specifically, at the silent look of horror and understanding on her face. She got the message.

"That's a tough break." Florit said in an unconvincing voice. "I'm done talking to you now."

"Hey, Florit? I have to pee." Moirall said.

"Yeah?" Florit said with an annoyed voice. "Hurry back, Moirall. I'm ready to head out."

We watch Moirall get up and leave. She meets up with the man who loved her, and he makes a mistake. He looks over at me. Florit growls.

"That bitch isn't coming back…I'm gonna find her."

I look at him, and I smile sweetly.

"No you won't."

I'm glad the club is this loud. Because thanks to the pulsating music and the thumping of the bass that rattles the floor, no one hears me slam Florit's head against the table, knocking him out cold instantly. And everyone's too wrapped up in their own business to notice me grab him by the neck and twist. I hear the pop, and then stage the body to look like he's passed out into his drink. I…still can't believe that no one has seen me. One of the bartenders, dressed a blue dress that is near-identical to her own skin color, and I clear my throat.

"Excuse me, miss?" I asked, putting on my best sweetheart voice.

"What do you need, honey?" She asked in a syrupy voice. I point to Florit's corpse.

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked. "Please don't disturb my friend. He's dead drunk."

The waitress smiles.

"Anything for you, baby." She said, and then she walks off. I stare after her, and then back at Florit. Or what's left of him. Then I see his drink, and grab it to take a sip.

I make a face. That shitbag has…had terrible taste. So I set the drink down, and melt into the crowd. There's one thought on my mind.

I… _literally_ cannot believe that worked.

…

As I make my way back towards the bar, I am aware of a presence next to me. She's leaning against the wall, with one foot rested up against the wall and her knee bent outward. She's dressed in a skintight black catsuit. The kind of thing that makes hearts race and tongues wag. I almost say her name before she does.

"My name is Morinth." She said. "I've been watching you. You're the most interesting person in this bar, you know that?"

"I tend to draw people into my orbit." I said. "I'm big enough for it, anyway."

She laughs. It should be a musical noise, but all it does is raise the hair up on the back of my neck.

"I hope that isn't some lame pick-up line." Morinth said. "Though I've heard far worse." She gestures off to the side. "I've got a both over here in the shadows. Why don't you come sit with me?"

In the shadows. Isn't _that_ fucking subtle.

We take a seat away from the music, where everything is muted. Morinth's table gives he a good view of everything in this place. She definitely saw me dancing. She most likely saw me beat up that Turian, and then save Moirall. And she most definitely saw me kill Florit.

Samara was right. This bitch really gets off on acts of violence and passion.

"Some nights I come here and there's no one interesting to talk to." She said. "Tonight it's you. Why is that?" She smiles slightly.

"Might have something to do with my good looks." I said. "Or the fact that you and I want the same things."

"Do we?" She's more amused at my bravado than anything. Time to sweeten the pot.

"What do you think of the music here?" I asked.

"Dark rhythms, violent pulses. It stirs something primitive in me. What about you?"

"I prefer music that haunts." I said. "The kind that stirs some sense of foreboding…or of wanting."

"Got any examples?" She asked. She's intrigued. I smirk. Might as well show her that Sis isn't the only silver-tongued Shepard out there.

"You'd never have heard of them."

Morinth leans forward. I catch a scent of her perfume. It's strong as hell. For a moment I wonder what it would be like to be surrounded by it. And then I remember Nef, and my rage purges the lust that was nibbling at my heart.

"Try me." She said.

I reach into my pocket and draw my iDroid out. I fire it up, and press play.

 _We passed upon the stair_

 _We spoke of was and when_

 _Although I wasn't there_

 _He said I was his friend_

"Mmm…isn't this a David Bowie song?" Morinth asked. I chuckle.

"I prefer Midge Ure."

"Who's that?" Morinth asked. I smirk again.

"Someone who's clearly too indie for you, mainstream lady."

She laughs again. It's musical, but in the way the theme to _Halloween_ is musical. I subconsciously shiver.

"Oh, I like you! It's been a while since I met someone fearless enough to tease me." Morinth said. "You know, there are…ways to enhance your musical experience."

"Like Hallex?" I asked.

"It slithers through my soul." Morinth said, a look of bliss on her face.

Damn, Samara wasn't kidding. This woman _is_ a hedonist.

"I guess you and I do share a few things in common." Morinth said. "Tell me something: do you fancy yourself a bit of an art appreciator?"

"Depends on the art." I said. "Though that Elcor guy Forta is a little bit out there."

"I _love_ Forta." Morinth said. She looked at me in shock. "You're saying that you don't?"

"I never said that." I reply. "I'm just saying that…I need some convincing, perhaps."

"Perhaps I can help you with that." Morinth said, a playful smirk on her lips. "Though art does come in other forms too. I like glamour in vids."

"Like Vaenia?" I asked.

"It's my dream to live like one of them." Morinth said. "The actresses are so…glamorous."

If I have anything to say about it, I will crush that dream in the dust.

"Do you travel much?" Morinth asked.

"You could say that. I've been all over the galaxy." I said.

"It changes you, doesn't it?" Morinth said. "Where you can see and do things most people can't imagine."

"I've done things that you can't even imagine, Morinth." I said. At this, Morinth looks genuinely intrigued.

"Enlighten me." She said. I begin to speak.

"I am child of war, prostituted by the sons of liberty to fight in all manners of conflict across the galaxy, in places you have never heard of for people whose names are not real. I have seen explosions, blood, and death surround me. I have shot men, conquered planets, and captured critical data and elements that the vast majority of sapient life will never understand the significance of. I have watched and felt men die. And I discovered something. An uninformed mind would think that this violence is the greatest expression of power. But I think differently. What makes power is…power. Violence is merely a means to an end. And those that recognize this difference…they are the ones that hold power."

I finish, and stare at Morinth. She honest to god licks her lips.

"Do you…want to get out of here?" Morinth asked. "My apartment is nearby…and I want you alone."

Hook, line, and sinker.

…

Her apartment is spacious and swanky. I wonder who was the rich sugar daddy that she killed in order to afford such a place. It's minimalist in furniture, but there are trinkets scattered around the room. No doubt mementos of prior "lovers."

"Why don't you sit down?" Morinth said, gesturing for me to take a seat next to her on the couch. "I think you'll like it."

I know exactly what kind of danger I'm in the moment I sit down. This is the endgame. When I sit, I have to hope that Samara is nearby. Otherwise, there may be nothing left to save. But then I remember Nef. And I realize that it's time to do what's right.

I sit down on the couch.

"I love clubs." Morinth began. "People, movement, heat…I can still hear the bass, like the drums of a great hunt, out for your blood." She looked at me. "But here it's muted. Here…you're safe. Is that what you want, John?"

I shrug.

"People feel safest right before they die." I replied.

"It's true. We're never safe." Morinth said. "I've never understood the fascination with safety. Some of us choose differently. Independence over submission. I think we share that, you and I."

She sits down on my lap, and I can barely look away from her. I know that she's already working on me. But my mind is a steel trap. If she wants to crack me open, she's going to have to fight for it.

"We've both killed many times, Morinth." I said. "But I see no more similarities."

She looks somewhat panicked.

"Why do you say that I've killed? What do you know? Let's stop playing games."

She moves in for the kill, straddling my lap. She closes her eyes, and when they're open again they are as black as a starless night.

"Look into my eyes and tell me you want me. Tell me you'd kill for me. Anything I want."

I want to speak, but I am frozen. She's holding me in place. Every thought in my being rages at her, and I am trapped in a body that will not respond. I should have known better. She's been doing this for ages. She knows every trick. She smirks.

"Not so talkative now, are we sweetie?" She mutters. "You should just relax. I'll let you in on an ecstasy that no girl before me has ever given you." She gently unzips the top of my leather jacket, and peaks underneath my shirt. "Ooh, I like a man with tattoos. They tell so much about the person that wears them." She then traces her finger down below my neck, and rests her finger on a particular spot in between my pectorals. She'd better not. If she knows what's good for her, she won't do it.

"This one is pretty." She said. "A loved one, perhaps? Hmm…I can't quite make the cursive out, though. The artist was pretty thorough. But…ah, I see it now. One word means an awful lot, doesn't it? But I like this one. I can see it now." She smiles triumphantly. "… _Boss._ "

She leans in my ear, and her lips brush against it as she whispers.

" _I'll be your boss tonight, honey._ "

 **That does it.**

Like the rush from coming down from a bad trip, I realize that I am no longer paralyzed. My rage has returned tenfold, igniting within me like embers catching dry pine. It burns within me so great that I can feel my heart slamming against my chest. I see red. I feel nothing but hate.

And I grab her by the throat.

"What-guh-" Her eyes are wide, no longer jet-black. I lift her by the neck, standing upright and letting her feet dangle off the ground.

Wordlessly, I slam her through the coffee table.

But as soon as I've let her go, I've freed her. Her eyes glow blue, and I feel an invisible hand pick me up. I don't even have time to scream as I'm thrown hard into the fireplace. It kicks up soot and breaks logs, and my hair is covered in splinters and soot. The wind is knocked out of my chest, and there is a terrible pain in my lower side. She's broken at least one of my ribs. Maybe two. As I crawl back to a sitting position, I see her walking over towards me. She smirks.

"Not bad. But I've been doing this since you humans were reliant on _steam_ for energy." She said. She puts a hand on her hip. "But it isn't a complete loss. In a way, I like my lovers to make a little noise. So…what else can I break?" She cracks her knuckles.

I just spit at her. She laughs.

"You're still going? You're by far the craziest lover I've had the chance to relish. And…by the Goddess, you really _do_ want to kill me!" She smirks. "Baby, I'm an _Ardat-Yakshi_! Did you seriously think that you, a fleshy little human, could kill me by yourself?"

I spit at the ground to clear my throat. I turn to her, and shrug.

"Yeah…" I manage to gut out. And then I become aware of another presence in the room, and I smile. "…But on the off chance…that I was wrong…"

Morinth has just enough time to turn around before Samara's biotic slam smashes her against the glass window, cracking the glass.

"Hello…mother…" Morinth said.

"Do _not call me that!_ " Samara boomed, forcing another blast at Morinth.

"I can't choose to stop being your daughter, mother." Morinth sneers.

"You made your choice long ago!" Samara retorted.

At this, Morinth lets loose a biotic blast to free herself, and she is covered in a similarly blue aura as to Samara.

"What choice?" She spits. "My only crime was being born with the gifts _you_ gave me!"

I duck as a table gets deflected from Morinth to Samara, and I start to crawl towards the two Asari. My breath is returning. My rage has not been quenched. I must…I must get her. She will die. I will assure it.

" _Enough, Morinth!_ "

They're caught in a beam struggle of sorts, but the years of preying on the innocent have made Morinth an equal match for her mother. It is taking all of Samara's power simply to stand her ground.

"I am the genetic _destiny_ of the Asari!" Morinth howled. "But they are not ready to reveal this, so I must die!"

"You are a disease to be purged. Nothing more!" Samara fired back.

I manage to get back to my feet again. My head is spinning. But my thoughts are beginning to crystallize. I must have my revenge. For Nef. Nef is dead because of this scourge.

"I'm just as strong as she is!" Morinth wails, looking over at me. "Let me join you!"

"I am already sworn to help your sister, Jonathan." Samara said. "And I have vowed to be there for you, too."

That last sentence threw me for a loop. Perhaps I had not heard right. My ears are still ringing. I do not recall ever hearing Samara promise this in my presence.

I stand there for a moment. I wait.

But only to make sure that my vision has stopped swimming. I need to be sure that I'm stable.

Samara had told me not to bring my guns with me. She said that the barhoppers would be panicked, and Morinth would smell a rat. And, so, wordlessly I had handed over to her my Carnifex pistols before I entered Afterlife VIP. That had been the last time I'd seen Samara up until now. She had vanished into the night.

But I never said anything about handing over the concealed derringer that I'd requested from and been given to by Thane just moments after.

"Nef was going to be an artist." I murmur.

I raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

The shot buried itself in Morinth's kneecap, and the biotic duel was broken as one of the duelists collapsed to a knee, howling in pain. But I'm a thorough bastard, through and through.

So I make sure to blow out her other knee.

…

I ignore the sound of her shrieking in pain as she clutches her ruined kneecaps, alternating between whichever one she thinks she can heal first. She can't, because I make sure to plug another round in each of them. She lies on the ground, moaning in abject agony.

Too goddamn bad. I'm not done with her. She _will_ suffer.

I stomp over to the apartment's bar, panting like some sort of unchained beast. I rip the glass door off of the wine cabinet, ignoring her wailing. I dig through until I find a couple of bottles. I don't give a shit what it is. It just has to be strong. I walk back over towards Morinth, and uncork the first bottle. I upend it, and soon the liquid splashes all over her. As soon as it empties, I throw the bottle at her face. It shatters, and there might have been some blood. I'm not done. I open the next one, empty it, and then throw the bottle at her a little harder than the last time. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

When I'm done, her face is a mess of cuts and bruises and she's soaked in no less than five different types of alcohol.

I reach into my pocket, and pull out a cigar. After clipping the end, I reach for my lighter in my other pocket and catch a spark. I start puffing manicly, and before long my cigar is burning bright and red. I dangle it in my fingertips, and it'd just take a flick of a wrist or for my fingers to go limp…and the light will fall into the puddle at my feet. Morinth looks up at me, and perhaps for the first time in life she is afraid. Afraid and powerless.

And then she begins to speak.

"Pl…please…" Her voice is a mere whisper. "Please…have merc-"

" _ **MERCY?**_ " I don't care how loud I am. "After all those innocent lives you took, you ask me to spare you? Why should I give you the kindness you _**NEVER**_ showed anyone?" I shake my head, and I can see her eyes widening in fear. "I wonder how many of them would've begged, if you hadn't fried out their nervous system. How many of them would have pleaded that you stay your hand? That you let them live?" I can feel myself smiling now.

"You see them now, don't you?" I ask, as I take in the look that now crosses her face. "The ghosts of everyone that you ever killed. They're miserably tough bastards, aren't they? They haunt, they follow, and they never forget. They will be etched within your memory. They'll leave an indelible mark on your soul. And for the rest of your life, you will never know peace."

At this, I can't help but laugh. It is a tired, defeated and hopeless sound.

"In a way, I'm kinda jealous. I gotta live with my ghosts for the rest of my life. You only got a couple more seconds."

I get ready to let go.

"Jonathan."

I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"She murdered the _one thing I cared about_ on this fucking station!" I snarl. "Nef was…fuck, I don't know what Nef was, but when I saw her for the first time I made a vow that something so innocent would not come to harm on Omega. And by god almighty, she and her family _accepted_ me. They…they made me realize for the first time in _years_ that I could have a decent and caring relationship with other people without them fearing that I was a feral freak. That I was gonna snap and go 'Butcher' on them and start killing babies. Fuck, they still think my name is Doc Halladay! I could start over with them. I could…" I can feel the tears streaming down my face. "She was gonna be an artist! She was gonna be famous! She was gonna make a name for herself, and it was my goal to get her out of here. Get her to the Citadel, where she'd be happy and famous and comfortable and she could buy a house for her mom back on Earth and be content. And maybe in doing that find…I dunno…redemption? Peace of mind? An end to the loathing? I know if was gonna be something. She had her whole life ahead of her. She was gonna be _someone._ " I turn towards Morinth. " _ **AND YOU TOOK THAT FROM HER!**_ " Morinth flinches in genuine fear. I must look feral to her. I do not care. I turn back towards Samara, and I smile. It is mirthless. "Samara…she deserves this. She deserves to die in agony. Just like the rest of her victims. Can't you see that?"

There is silence, save for Morinth's pained whimpering. I must have got her good, if she hasn't tried to escape yet. Samara looks me straight in the eye.

"What Morinth has done has earned her nothing short of death." She said. "That is the only way for her victims to truly achieve any sort of justice. Her life is forfeit." She then shakes her head. "But yours is not."

"You stopped me from killing that Eclipse bitch." I growl. "Don't deny me this now, damn it."

"Jonathan…hunting Morinth is my responsibility. It has been for hundreds of years. As a Justicar, I am able to commit brutal acts in the name of justice. It is a lonely and cold and often-miserable life.

But you do not have to bear that burden, that pain. You have the chance to be someone again. But killing mindlessly for the sake of killing will not bring you peace. They will not calm the storm in your head." She finally closes her eyes. "Ask yourself this. Would Nef be proud of what you are doing in her name?"

I am broken. My rage seeps away, and all that's left is a tired and cold bitterness. I look at the wretch on the ground, and then at the woman who is about to commit the hardest act of her life. I close my eyes.

"Do what you must." I mutter.

I hear Samara's footsteps. I hear Morinth's pained whimpering as she tries to scuttle away from her fate.

"Find peace in the embrace of the Goddess."

I hear, but do not see, what has to be done.

And then I hear nothing.

…

There is silence for an unknown time. I hesitate to say anything, until I feel Samara's presence next to me. And then she speaks.

"I am ready to leave this place and move on with my life." She said.

I just nod, and shiver. I begin to puff on my cigar, hoping that it will calm my frayed nerves. It's better than nothing.

Thane had been waiting outside as a sort of emergency backup. If Samara had somehow failed her quest, he had been ordered to kill anything that left the room. No doubt Morinth might have tried to disguise herself as her own mother. But as soon as Samara said to Thane something that only the two of them knew, he relaxed. Also, the sight of me might have helped.

We were not accosted on our way back to the Normandy. Sis was waiting for us in Samara's chamber. She saw me, and she paled.

"Jesus, Bro are you ok?"

"Fine." I muttered. "Just…gimme some space, ok?"

She nods, and then walks off with Thane elsewhere to talk about something else. That just leaves myself and Samara.

"I…have a question, Jonathan."

I turn to face Samara. She is standing out in front, looking out at the expanse of the stars. We have not left the station yet. Sis wanted to find a way to take care of Diana before we went.

"What?" I manage to grunt. She sighes.

"In my life, I have come across many victims of the Ardat-Yakshi, and there have been a few cases where I have interrupted her and saved the life of those that she was about to kill, though in the process I lost her as well." Samara said. "And every time, I wanted to know what they had done to prevent themselves from giving in. It's all speculative but…they kept saying that they focused on thoughts of those that they loved when they realized what was about to happen, but even then those thoughts were pushed away as Morinth's presence became irresistible. But when I was about to enter Morinth's quarters tonight, I felt something different. I felt…rage. Rage that had briefly overpowered the spell of an Ardat-Yakshi." She turned to face me. "Jonathan, what is the source of that? Who or what could you possibly hate so much as to break free of Morinth's grasp?"

I'm surprised that she even needs to ask. My answer is immediate.

"Myself."

A/N: This was the mission that I was gearing towards since the beginning of the story with the introduction of Nef, and I hope the payoff was worth it. John Shepard is, for all of his badass quips and nigh-indestructibility, a severely broken man and prone to rash moments of violence and pain in an effort to quiet the demons that rage within him. He's a wretch that is barely able to keep himself together, haunted by those he couldn't protect and those he couldn't save. It's like I said at the very beginning of the story. Jane Shepard is the Paragon. And John Shepard is the Renegade. But as we can see, sometimes it isn't always "cool" to be the "bad guy." Sometimes it has a lasting effect on their psyche. At least there are glimpses, based on the interactions with those in the bar, that at his core John Shepard is a good man.

I promise that the next chapter will be far lighter than this. A palate cleanser if you will. But I hope you enjoyed this one.

Till next time!


	27. A Simple Request

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

I didn't really talk to anyone for about a day. Zaeed recognized that I needed some space, so he sort of scattered or kept to the mess hall when he wanted to read. Most of the time, I just lay there on my bed, aimlessly tossing a baseball up and down into the air, and then catching it. I found myself holding and spinning the ball around in my hand, gripping it like a different pitch each and every time. I must have gripped 1000 sliders, 500 fastballs, and a few knuckleballs before I decided that I was getting hungry. So I set the ball down and walked out of the room.

I wasn't a complete freak: I'd come out of the room to shower and change at least once. That way if people made waves to get away from me then it was because I was scary, not because I was smelly. Though I wouldn't have cared either way.

I checked the clock on my iDroid as I grabbed something from the mess hall. It was a little after noon. And we were about to depart from Omega. Apparently, Sis had wanted to take care of a few things while we were on the station. Also, because the hangar that we were holstered in was under Aria's protection, and I guess Sis wanted the privacy before she returned to the prying eyes of Citadel and Council space. Out here in the Terminus Systems, no one gave a shit. And no one who had half a brain was going to mess with someone that was favorable to Aria.

I needed to take a walk. I turned to one of the kiosks nearby.

"EDI?"

Almost immediately, the thing's avatar appeared next to me.

" _What is it, Jonathan?"_

"I'm…I'm gonna go for a walk." I said. "Tell Sis or anyone else that I have my iDroid on me, so they can call me through that."

" _Understood. Logging you out, Jonathan._ "

Putting on my duster and making sure that I at least had one of my Predators on me, I stepped out of the ship and back into the scuzzy station that had been my home for too long.

It didn't take me long before I found where I needed to go. I cut to the front of the line, and the Elcor bouncer was clearly not happy.

"Annoyed: You need to go to the back of the line, human."

"Tell Aria that there's a butcher here that would like to talk to her." I said. "She'll know who I am."

"Dude, I was in the front!" Some yuppie asshole behind me grabs me by the shoulder. I just turn around and stare at him. He seems to visibly shrink in front of me. The Elcor bouncer speaks again.

"Amused: Perhaps you should learn who not to fuck with, pal. With confusion: Apparently, you are clear to go in Afterlife, human. Thinly concealed threat: Don't make a mess in there, or we'll clean you up."

I thank the bouncer, and walk past the line. I hear the yuppie behind me speak up.

"Come on, Aria's expecting me, too!"

"Annoyed: If she was expecting you, you would already be inside."

…

Aria is sitting on her couch again, one of her legs crossed over the other. Again. She must really like the pose. She waves off the Turian that comes forth with the scanner.

"He's clean." She said. "If he'd come to kill me, he'd be bringing a little bit more than that pea-shooter on his hip."

"This thing could blow your head clean off." I said, gesturing to the Predator. Aria just smirks.

"And with just a thought, I could make yours _im_ plode. So don't play a dick-waving contest with me, Shepard." She pauses, and then smirks. "Strange. I'd gotten so used to calling the Commander that. Now I have to actually stop and think about who I'm talking to." She then gestures for me to take a seat on the couch. "Can I help you, or did you just come here to see how Grann was doing? You broke his arm in three places, by the way. That was pretty impressive."

"How long were you keeping tabs on me?" I asked. Aria smirks.

"More or less since the first recorded kill you made on the station. Usually enough scum of the galaxy flocks to Omega so I don't give a shit who dies. But then when I find that any mugger that goes into a very specific tenement on my station never comes back, I had to start peeking."She said.

"And?" I asked. "Did you ever suspect that I was who I am?"

"You covered your tracks pretty well, but…I had my suspicions." Aria said. "First off, there is no way that a strung-out hobo can go around murdering that many commandos or thugs and not get killed himself. So you had to have training. And I've gotten photos of you. You looked like you, but you'd also grown that shaggy beard of yours so it was hard to tell. But I think the biggest thing that convinced me that you might be something else was…your style." She smirked. "I know a few people in a few high places that knew about your preferred method of gatting people. You really have a thing for knee-capping, don't you?"

I just shrug. Aria laughs.

"Still, I wasn't entirely convinced. It could have been just a strange coincidence. But then when I see you and your sister together in front of me, that's when I knew it was all true." She sighed, and then turned towards me with her eyes narrowed. "But clearly you didn't come here to listen to me ramble about how I know you. What do you want?"

The words come flowing out of my mouth without a thought.

"I want you to look after someone."

Aria rolls her eyes.

"Do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down?" She asked. I don't have time for her crap, so I cut to the chase.

"I want you to protect Diana." I pause. "The mother of that girl the Ardat-Yakshi killed."

At this, Aria's smile fades. She just stares at me.

"And what's in it for me?"

I draw my pistol and point it at her. Understandably, her guards all raise their weapons at me too.

"I'm a faster draw than the rest of them." I said. "You need to hope that their countless shots get lucky and hit me first. All I need is to get lucky once."

"Are you… _threatening_ me?" Aria asked. She seemed more shocked than livid. I shrug.

"Well, I sure as shit don't have credits to buy you off."

There's a pause, and then Aria starts to laugh. She motions for her men to stand down.

"Oh Goddess, you I _like!_ " She said. "I wish I'd known who you were years ago, John. I would have hired you and paid you a king's ransom as one of my best enforcers. The last person who tried to fuck me like that is dead, decomposing somewhere in dark space. But you? I'll let slide. Why? Don't know. Maybe I just like you." She then frowns a bit. "If nothing else, consider it a common courtesy for that mother. She will never go hungry again. She will never be threatened again. And if she wants to leave Omega, she will not have to pay for a ticket. Or housing." She turned towards one of her men, a Salarian in the corner. "Spread the word. That entire neighborhood is under my protection. They fuck with that neighborhood, they break Omega's one rule. What is that, again?"

Her men all roll their eyes, as if they've heard this little spiel countless times.

"Don't fuck with Aria." They all repeat back at her, with a degree of resignation. Aria turns back towards me.

"It's all taken care of." She smirks. "You know, if at the end of whatever mission you've running with your sister ends and you need work…stop by. My offer still stands. And after seeing what you did to that Ardat-Yakshi…I could use some determined muscle like you."

I don't know whether to feel complimented or disgusted by the line, so I just leave.

…

My wandering takes me to the one place that I'd rather not return to, but I feel that it is necessary. I sigh as I walk through the street. No one is out on the street right now. The death of Nef has made people skittish, and I don't blame them. There were a couple of kids that lived in this community, and it seems that their parents have gone completely helicopter-mode in an effort to protect them from a similar fate as to Diana's girl. But that's a foolhardy endeavor. You're more likely to get killed by falling airplane parts than you are by an Ardat-Yakshi. Which just means that Diana got hit by the worst possible luck in existence. And Nef even worse than her.

I walk up to the front door of the apartment, and with a sigh I raise my hand to knock on the door. After a few moments, the door opens and she opens the door. She sees me, and there is a brief shining in her eyes as she blinks back some new tears.

"Doc?" She whispered.

And then she opens the door.

We sit in her parlor, as Diana waits for the tea to brew. After she gets it and pours each of us a cup, she looks at me. There is a silence for a bit, and then she speaks.

"Did…did you find the one that did that to Nef?"

I take a sip.

"She's dead." I said.

I don't think that Diana would mind hearing that. I'm not about to sugarcoat it and Diana would have hated me for doing that in the first place. And in the end, she's a smart lady. She would have known that anything that I said that wasn't specific would just be an inference for the truth. Morinth is dead. Nef is dead. There is no happy end to this story. Not really, anyway.

"I wish that I felt some degree of happiness, but I could never be proud of taking another life." Diana said quietly. "At the very least, now I know that the monster that took my daughter from me will never take anyone else. So I suppose I can feel better knowing that." She turned to look at me. "You did a brave thing, Doc."

I feel a pit in my stomach. Even after all of this time, I've never told her my real name. And I don't know if she'd react to me the same way if she knew that I was the person I actually was. And I open my mouth to tell her the truth.

But then she cuts me off.

"…If you don't mind? I have something for you." She gets up from the couch, and walks into another room. When she comes back, she's holding a little box. It's wrapped up and everything.

"What is that, Diana?" I asked. She smiles sadly.

"I was talking to that wonderful Drell friend of yours, and he mentioned that the mission that you are all going on with Commander Shepard…you might not come back. And even if you do, I don't know if I want you to come back here. I can see that you're destined for so much more than just being a local community defender. So I guess this is a little going away present." She blinks back some tears. "Don't worry about me, Doc. I was visited by a very nice Turian and Batarian earlier today, who said they were from Aria. They promised that they were my 'handlers,' which I guess means that I'm not going to be completely alone anymore. They even had groceries for me! I…I think I'll be alright." She hands me the box. "Open it when you get back to that pretty ship that the Commander must ride, will you?"

I'm speechless. I take the box, and hold it in one hand. And then I do the only thing that I can.

I pull Diana into a hug. We stay there for a very long time.

"Diana, I promise you: I will come back. And when I do, you know that you will always have me whenever you need me." I manage to choke out. She smiles warmly.

"You were always like a big brother to my Nef. And for that, I can never thank you enough." She said. And then she looked towards the door. "Now, I think that you shouldn't keep the Commander waiting, John."

I'm halfway out the door before I hear that last word. I turn and look back at her, my throat completely dry.

"Whuh…" I managed to sputter out. Diana smiles softly.

"I wasn't a luddite all those years ago, John." She said. "I was reading the extranet. Most humans are aware of the battle of Torfan, after all." She pauses. "I saw your face when they released photos of the aftermath of the battle and everything else. And despite the fact that you've grown out your hair and are covering your face in a beard…your eyes betrayed you. I remembered the look in them in those old photos: haunted and sad, like you wanted to do anything to take back the pain. To make things right. I knew who you were the moment you started showing up in our neighborhood."

"But…you let Nef around me…" I managed to sputter. "You…you let me be around her. Let me be around you. All of you…why?"

"Because I know that you're not a monster." Diana said. "You might have done horrible things on Torfan, and perhaps if I knew them I would never be able to understand why. But when I first met you I knew that the last thing you wanted was for anyone else to be hurt. You were punishing yourself. That's how I knew you weren't just a remorseless killer. That's how I knew that you're a good man at your core. You'd rather hurt yourself than hurt anyone else again if you could." She said. "And for the short time that you were here, you were the closest thing to a mentor figure that my little Nef ever had. That means more than you think."

There's a lump in my throat now.

"But you're not really Doc Halladay. You're John Shepard. Your sister is the greatest hero of our species. Certainly the most famous, considering that she's the first to come back to life…but you're her brother. And you must have been good at what you did. If you have the same blood as her, then your destiny belongs out there. Not as a little gatekeeper for us." She smiled. "I love you like a son, John…but I also know that you belong in the stars. With your sister." She gestured to the door. "And I don't think you should keep her waiting."

Walking out that door was one of the hardest things that I had ever done in my life. Because I knew in my heart that, even if I saw her again, I could feel the ending of a sort of era. Things would never be the same. I glanced at the box in my hands, and I wondered what it was. I made a promise that I would open it when I got back to the Normandy.

The Normandy…

There was no point in delaying it any longer.

I took a deep breath, and I looked at Diana.

"You were an angel to me, Diana. And I hope that for the rest of your life, you know peace."

She just smiled, and gave me one last hug.

"I'll see you again, John Shepard." She said. "Thank you. For everything."

I sighed, and walked out of the neighborhood, out of that period of my life, and out into the great unknown.

…

When I arrived on the Normandy, I realized that there was a commotion going on in the mess hall. I didn't even bother setting the wrapped box down in my room; I just kept it tucked under my arm as I went to go see what was going on.

What I saw nearly caused me to drop the damned thing.

There was a card game going over at one of the tables. Skyllian Fives, by the look of it. There was Jacob, Thane, Jack, Tali, and Garrus all sitting around the table, wheeling and dealing and generally talking shit to one another. Sis, Kasumi and Samara were off at a table, all sipping tea and discussing minutiae. Grunt was watching the Skyllian Fives game with an increasingly confused expression, as if he was having trouble following the ins and outs of the game. But what absolutely threw me for a loop was who I saw over in the kitchen unit.

Mordin was there, humming a little something to himself as he skimmed through a cookbook of sorts. He turned towards his partner.

"Hmm. Perhaps adding some butter might improve sweetness of confections."

"Oh sod off, Doctor. I know bloody well what I'm doing."

I finally found my voice.

"…Zaeed?"

At that, most everyone turned to see me. I was greeted with a round of welcomes and the like.

"Oh man, both Shepards are in the room. Now it's a party!" Garrus chuckled. "Call." He said, tossing a chip in the pile. Jack rolled her eyes.

"Pussy. Raise ten."

"Keelah, Jack. There's no way that you can maintain with that much money in the pot."

"Did I ask for your fucking opinion, Tali?"

"…"

"Didn't think so. Zip it and deal."

I didn't hear the rest, because I was busy watching Zaeed reach into the oven and pull out a tray of-

-Holy shit are those…

"Zaeed, are you making…chocolate chip cookies?" I managed to sputter out. Zaeed looks at me, and he frowns.

"Yeah." He said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. I blinked once.

"Um, that's cool. But, uh, you're…I dunno-"

"Doc, did you honestly think that I don't have other talents besides shooting people in the face?" He asked. "Lemme let you in on a bloody important detail: there is one thing that I take with utter goddamn seriousness outside of my work, and that is my goddamn chocolate chip cookies."

I blink again.

"He's right, you know." Sis said. She has her mouth half full and holds up the cookie she's chewing on. "These are delicious, Zaeed. Think you can make peanut butter cookies next?"

Zaeed looked like she'd asked him to give an Elcor a prostate exam.

"… _Peanut butter cook-_ I don't goddamn think so, Shepard!" He growled. "There's only one type of cookie in the galaxy, and that would be goddamn chocolate chip."

"What about raisins?" Jack asked. She is smirking like the little troll she is.

"RAISINS?" Zaeed sputtered. "Why don't I just piss on the cookies instead? Raisin cookies aren't cookies. They're not even bloody _scones._ Fuck, they aren't even bloody _edible!_ Don't you be bringing that golden calf bullshit in here when I'm working on these delectable treats." He pointed a threatening finger at Jack, who just laughed and flipped him off.

I swear I had no idea what was going on anymore. I looked over at Sis, who just shrugged and laughed. I walked over to her.

"Sis…what the fuck is going on?" I managed to ask. She smiled and took a drink from a bottle of what smelled like root beer. That sneaky little shit bought root beer and didn't tell me? Oh, she was gonna get it.

"This might come as a shock, Bro, but every now and then the team needs to blow off some stress." She said with a grin. "Usually people are doing it in groups, but every now and then everyone's schedule lines up and you have this little 'party' atmosphere. So it's nice to see." Her smile faded. "And I think that lightening the mood is important, especially considering what you went through."

I fight off the urge to cry, and I just nod. She smiles sadly.

"You did everything you could, Bro. And the monster that tormented so many is finally dead. Because of you." She pointed to Samara, who was talking to Kasumi about what happened to thieves in Asari space (from what I was hearing, it was not good). "Samara said that she'd underestimated Morinth: if they'd been locked in a struggle for much longer Morinth would have overpowered and then killed her. So you didn't just avenge Nef: you saved Samara's life."

I shrug.

"I don't know about that." I said. Sis gives me a playful shove.

"There's a time to be modest and then there's a time to be honest." She said. "And you need to be honest with yourself. You saved Samara. You might not have known it at the time, but you saved her."

I notice that Samara is looking at me right now. She gives me a small nod, as if to let me know that everything is all right. She is still in mourning over the loss of her daughter, but it is as though there has been an invisible weight lifted off of her shoulders. She seems to be at peace. And perhaps if she is at peace, then she will be more focused on the mission at hand.

Shit. I'm starting to think like Janey.

Sis looks around and frowns.

"I don't see Miranda anywhere. If I know her well enough, I bet she's cooped herself in her office on some 'paperwork' business." She said. "Think you could go get her out of her shell?" She asked with a wink. I roll my eyes.

"Fine." I said. "But if she biotically kills me, I will haunt you Jane."

Sis just chuckles.

"Somehow I doubt that will happen." She said. "Now get to it, soldier. Dismissed."

I leave the mess hall to the sound of Zaeed about having an aneurysm over the idea of oatmeal being a suitable ingredient for cookies.

…

The door to her office is closed, but I can see that it is not locked. I'm about to open it, when I hear voices on the other side.

"I don't brood, Ori. And even if I did, that doesn't make me funny. There is nothing funny about me."

" _Hahahaha Sis you're doing it again! You're pouting!_ "

And then I hear a chuckle.

"…Alright, I guess I am. Are you happy now?"

" _Yes. But stop sending threatening letters to the deans of the colleges that I'm applying to. I want to get in on my own volition!_ "

"I'm not threatening anyone."

" _Sis, I know you are. I went from being wait-listed at Harvard to getting an offer for a full-ride scholarship. They don't even_ _ **give**_ _those out anymore!_ "

"I…might've…perhaps…written a letter of…recommendation-"

" _I KNEEEEW IIIIIIT!_ "

I laugh despite myself, and inadvertently press the door button. It opens up, and I am treated to the sight of Miranda suddenly looking up at me like a deer in the headlights. It is an absolutely priceless expression, but I know that if I take a photo of it I will cease to exist.

"Hello…John." She managed to sputter out, trying her best to look cool and collected. It's not really working.

" _John? OH! Is that that bearded hunk that you were with on Illium! Bring him over here, I want to say hi._ "

"Ori…" Miranda said through gritted teeth.

" _Do it. Or I'll make the most annoying sound in the galaxy._ "

Miranda hesitates. That was unwise.

" _Okay, you brought it on yourself! eeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-"_

Holy shit, it's resonating in my fucking fillings.

"JOHN!" Miranda wails. I race over, and soon get myself in front of the camera. Oriana Lawson is sitting in her room, and as soon as she sees me she stops…whatever the hell it was that she was doing…and beams.

 _"Oh, hi John! How's my sister doing? Isn't she great?"_ She asked.

"Uh, she's doing alright." I said. Oriana smiled.

 _"I won't distract you anymore, Sis. Talk to you later!"_ She said. She waves goodbye, and then she gets a little evil smile. _"And remember, no hickeys!"_

She terminates the call.

Miranda is currently the color of a tomato. She tries not to make eye contact.

"Um, that's…that's my, uh, sister. Oriana. She's, uh, a lot funnier than I am."

"I guess so." I said with a smile.

Miranda's changed out of her typical white-on-black Cerberus outfit. She's replaced it with a primarily black spysuit with golden linings. It is…well, somehow she looks better in this than she did in the last outfit. Not that I'd notice such a thing.

"Is everything alright?" Miranda asked, still not making eye contact. I chuckle, and walk away from her a bit.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's cool. Sis just wants you to join the rest of the gang in the mess hall. There are card games and chocolate chip cookies."

At the mention of the latter, Miranda visibly perks up. But then she shrugs.

"I don't know, John. I have a lot of work to do."

"Come on…" I said. "There are better things to do than shitty paperwork. Besides, Zaeed might kill Jack with a cake pan by the end of the night. That could be fun!"

"That…might be amusing." Miranda said. She looks at me, and smiles. "It's nice of you to drop by. I don't think we've really had much time to talk since you helped me with Oriana." She stands up, and she stares me directly in the eye. "I…I don't know if I've told you just how much that meant to me. I couldn't have reached her in time without your help."

"Zaeed was there too." I said. She laughs.

"Yes…Zaeed was there too. But he was sort of the backup. You were the one that I was most reliant on, and you came through for me. That really means a lot." She walks over and takes a seat over at one of the chairs that looks out towards the stars. She motions for me to sit in the one next to her. So I do.

"I also wanted to thank you for stopping me." She said.

"About Niket?" I asked.

"Yes." Miranda said. She sighed. "I'm glad that he tried to redeem himself…for what good it did him in the end."

"Well, it's nice to see you smile." I said. "Might want to keep that on the down-low, though. You've got a reputation to uphold, don't you?"

Miranda laughs.

"You ass." She said. "But I suppose you're right. I might need to practice my…what was it that Jack said I had? 'Resting bitch face' before I come down to the mess hall." She looks over at my thunderstruck expression. "That was a joke."

I have to bite my lip to keep from cracking up.

"Miranda, you're gonna need some practice on this whole 'joking' thing." I said. "Because right now, the delivery is…a little forced."

"Well, excuse me for branching out." She said. But there's a trace of a smile on her lips. She then sighs. "Thank you, though, John. My sister is safe again in large part thanks to you…I won't forget that."

That relieved smile on her face. It's a really nice look for her. I hope she finds as many situations as possible to use it.

She points to the undercrook of my arm.

"What's that?"

I look. It's the box that Diana gave me.

"A…gift." I said. "From a friend." Miranda smirked.

"Well, are you ever going to open it?"

"Yeah!" I said, perhaps too indignantly. "I was just…waiting for the right time."

"Uh huh." She said, crossing her arms over her chest. She raised an eyebrow. I sighed.

"It's nothing serious. I'll open it here, if you want."

"It's not what I want. It's your gift, after all." She said. I smirk.

"True. But I don't mind."

I undo the string holding the box together, and then I take off the top of the box.

I stare at it. What am I looking at? I pull it out of the box, and handle it in my hands. It's made of what feels like pure marble. It's a carving of a torch of sorts. It looks like a sort of monument, if anything. It's really pretty, but at the same time there's something about it. The detail is incredible. Nef must have spent ages working on this thing.

And then I notice Miranda staring at the little piece of art with a completely stunned look on her face.

"It's impressive, isn't it?" I asked. Miranda clears her throat, and then stares at me. She looks incredulous.

"Do you…do you not know what that is?" She asked.

"…Should I?" I asked.

Miranda takes a deep breath.

"John that's…that's the Eternal Torch. It's the monument for…" Her voice drops to a whisper. "…for the battle of Torfan."

I don't feel angry or betrayed or anything like that. I feel like perhaps I should have, but then I stop and think about the hours that Nef must have slaved away at this little piece. Cutting each little detail, and polishing it up…she knew who I was too. She knew, and she didn't care. They didn't care. They were willing to give me another chance, and they were willing to give me something that they hoped would turn a painful memory into something…something better? Maybe? I don't know.

But there are two things I do know.

"This is beautiful." I murmur, turning it over in my hands. "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen." I turn to Miranda. "The original. Who sculpted it?"

"A human and a Batarian, I think?" Miranda said. "I don't know their names. I know that the decision of the Batarian to help caused a bit of a firestorm in the Hegemony. They are still a little touchy about the battle of Torfan. Really the entire Skyllian Blitz, to be honest. But that Batarian was willing to help build the thing. So I guess…I guess it's a general memorial for both sides."

I stare at the piece in my hands again. They're all trying to move on. Trying to move on, and I'm stuck reliving the worst nights of my life over and over again on an endless loop. I can't keep doing this anymore. It'll rip me to pieces.

"Miranda." I said.

"Yes, John?" She asked.

"Can you do something for me?" I asked quietly. I know what I'm about to say, and the thought of it both excites and terrifies me. Both of those emotions are not helped by the fact that Miranda leans forward in her chair, and rests her hand on my thigh. Her hand is smooth and warm. She looks at me intently. I can see it in my peripheral vision.

"Anything, John."

I stare out into space.

"You are good at finding people, right? Because…I need you to look for someone for me. Someone who I know, but that I haven't seen in years."

"I'm no Shadow Broker, but I'm damn good." She said. She looks worried. "Why? Who are you looking for?"

Here it comes. The point of no return. I turn to face Miranda and stare deep into her shining eyes.

"I want you to find Major Benjamin Kyle."

A/N: OH SHIT.


	28. To Dwell on What Might Have Been

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

She stares at me, and for perhaps the first tme in her life Miranda Lawson seems unsure of what to say. She sighs. And then she finds her words.

"…You want me to find Major Kyle?"

"That's right." I said. Saying it again makes me feel a little bit better. A little bit more self-assured in that I want this taken care of. Miranda still seems somewhat staggered.

"But I thought that he died during the battle?"

"He didn't." I said. I can feel the blood boiling in me. "He went section eight. Clammed up and then got carried off the field. Left me to pick up the pieces. He knew. He knew that it was only going to get worse. And I know that he never got court-martialed, even though he was my superior officer. I bet he had connections. He disappeared, and I tried to hunt him down for a year before I gave up. But…" I look at Miranda. "…But I don't have the skills and the resources that Cerberus might have. That you might have."

"John…" Miranda seems hesitant. "Are you sure? This is not something easy to ask."

"Please, Miranda." I said. "I will never ask you anything like this ever again." I said. Miranda sighs.

"You did help me with my sister…" She trails off. "I'll…think about it. Is that sufficient for you?" She asked.

It's better than a no. So I tell her so.

…

At that moment, EDI showed up at one of the kiosks nearby Miranda's desk.

" _Jonathan and Miss Lawson, your presence is requested in the briefing room._ "

"What on earth could we be needed there for?" Miranda asked. "I thought that everyone was eating chocolate chip cookies?" She scowls. "If there aren't any left…"

I just roll my eyes and smile. For all of her attempts at being this frigid woman, Miranda can be pretty damn funny. Mostly because she's so _serious._ It's like imagining Batman gardening.

Arriving in the briefing room, we're greeted to a rather unusual scene. Sis is there, which isn't that abnormal. But what _is_ abnormal is that Kasumi is there with her. And she isn't currently hiding or planning to take compromising video or photos of anyone.

Yet.

"Greetings, Johnny!" Kasumi said. "And…Miranda. You're looking rather peckish. I think that Zaeed is still making a batch of cookies after Grunt ate the entire last batch."

"Can we stay on topic, Kasumi?" Sis asked.

"Oh, right!" She said. "So…you're probably wondering why we've called you here today. Or why I'm out in the open instead of plotting to steal all of your stuff. Or switch out Miranda's lipstick."

"What?" Miranda asked, subconsciously reaching for her lips, as if fearing that Kasumi put Icy Hot in her lipstick case.

"What?" Kasumi parroted back to her, in the most innocent voice possible and immediately after Sis spoke. "Anyway, as it turns out…there's a little bit of business that I need to take care of before I can fully…you know…commit to this mission that I might never come back from."

'Leave it to a thief to ask what's in it for her." Miranda said with a hint of condescension. Kasumi just raised an eyebrow.

"Some might call it selfish. I just prefer the term 'looking out for number one.'" She said. "And this isn't just little snatch-and-grab mission where the target is some bit of jewelry…this is something that's important to me." The subtle way that her tone changes implies the sincerity of her words. Alright, let's see what she's got.

"What are we stealing?" I asked.

"Stealing is not the word I'd use. Taking back what's rightfully mine is closer, but that's more than one word." Kasumi said. "I…had a partner. Keiji. He and I were…we were close, and we pulled a lot of jobs together. He died…" She trailed off, and it's clear that she thought of Keiji as more than just a partner. "…but he left something. A greybox."

"A greybox?" Miranda asked. "Those are exceptionally rare. What's on it?"

"…Memories." Kasumi said. "Memories that are important to me. And I can't stand the thought of someone figuring out what they are."

"I take it you wouldn't be telling us this if you hadn't tracked down who has the greybox?" I asked. Kasumi nods.

"Would you expect anything less from me?" She asked. "I've found out who is holding it, and where that person is. And we need to get it back."

"Okay. That's really specific, Kasumi." Miranda said.

"Keep your panties on." Kasumi said. "It's on Bekenstein. You know, the Fifth Avenue of human colonies?"

"…And who's holding it?" I asked, my patience starting to wear thin. Kasumi sighs.

"Donovan Hock."

To our surprise, it's Miranda who makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat.

"You know Donovan Hock?" Sis asked.

"Cerberus was considering making a deal to have him provide some weaponry to some of our cells, as well as launder some money that was used to purchase weapons. He's a gunrunner."

"He must not be a good one, if you didn't start to work with him." I comment. Miranda looks over at me, and makes a face.

"That's not it. It's just that he's…a _creep._ He was hitting on every woman with a pulse at the party that was used as a cover for our transaction. The Illusive Man soured on him, because it was clear that Hock is more interested in being a flamboyant high-roller instead of being a committed asset to Cerberus."

"So the guy likes to party?" I asked.

"Yes, and coincidentally enough, that's where we come in." Kasumi said. "He's throwing a party in a day, to celebrate something. Most likely a self-congratulatory bit for all of the meanest and most detestable gunrunners and the like in the galaxy. Through some trickery, I managed to score us a couple of invitations."

"Well, that seems good enou-"

Wait. She said that she got more than one invitation.

"…Who…exactly…is going to this?" I asked.

Sis stares at me with a look that clearly radiates _thank you for volunteering._ I sigh.

"I _hate_ black tie events." I said.

"You're not going alone." Kasumi said. "I'll be there, the Commander will be there under a pseudonym, and you two will be there."

There's a pregnant pause.

"…Us two?" Miranda finally speaks. Kasumi nods gleefully.

"Well, someone has to play the part of Mr. and Mrs. Smith!"

Another pregnant pause. This time it's longer.

"Are you saying-" I begin but get cut off by Miranda.

"-that John and I have to pose as a married couple?"

"Isn't it brilliant?" Kasumi asked. "It's the classic Ella Fitzgerald: Everyone will be so distracted by the main event that they don't notice the rest of the band around her. The band in this case being myself and Commander Shepard."

"…Are you comparing me to Ella Fitzgerald?" Miranda asked. Kasumi shrugged.

"I could lie and say I was talking about John."

Well, that just makes me feel _so_ much better.

"Commander Shepard will be going as Samantha Gunn, a hard-core up and coming mercenary who just recently got into an edition of _Badass Weekly_. You two are going as Wesson and Baretta Smith. Now, this is going to take-"

"Hold on. _Baretta Smith_?" Miranda asked. "That's not a real name. That's not even a _stripper's_ name!"

"No one uses their real name at these kinds of events." Kasumi said. "And let's be honest, Miri, do you really think any guy at that event is going to remember your name?"

I'm just keeping my mouth shut and, in doing so, not putting my foot in it. That's my only hope for survival.

"I notified Joker about the destination." Sis said. "We'll probably be at Bekenstein in a day. Gives you all enough time to practice the ins and outs of posing as a married couple."

I am really not a fan of Sis' smirk as she said this.

…

 _"This is absolutely ridiculous._ "

I roll my eyes as I make sure my socks are on proper and tight. Nothing is worse than having socks that aren't perfectly in place when you're wearing a tuxedo. Well, perhaps the only thing worse than that in the first place is wearing a fucking tuxedo, but I guess beggars can't be choosers. Miranda is in her office, changing into whatever her get-up is, and insisted on calling me via my iDroid…solely to bitch about our upcoming assignment.

"Do you really hate me that much?" I asked, looking at myself in the mirror as I adjust my tie. Kasumi told me not to shave, because Hock might recognize me as the Butcher of Torfan, so I'm left with the shaggy hair, beard, and mulleted ponytail that I've grown out in the years of my self-imposed exile. I look both cleaned-up and immensely shaggy at the same time. It's a strange dichotomy.

" _No. It's just…there are far more delicate ways to pull off an operation like this._ " Miranda's voice came back in through the speaker of my iDroid. She wasn't kidding when she said that she and EDI had ghosted the damned thing: now it was basically a phone whether I wanted it to be or not. " _And I've never been one for these sorts of parties._ "

"You strike me as someone who would be the life of the party." I can't resist making the jab. "Or, if nothing else, the center of attention."

There's a rush of static on my end. It's Miranda sighing.

" _My father wanted me to be the center of attention_."

I feel a cold pit in my stomach.

"Shit. I, uh, I didn't mean that." I said.

" _I know what you meant._ " Miranda said in a reassuring tone. She then chuckles. _"I wonder what he'd think if he saw me heading off to one of these galas, socializing with low-lifes like Donovan Hock, on my own? Oh…he'd be furious!_ "

"I hate him already." I said. "I'm still going to kill him before you if you aren't fast enough."

She laughs.

" _It really does show how irreparably damaged our relationship is that I am openly advocating the death of my father. I mean, I know that he's my father and all and there's certainly the opening for reconciliation…but I doubt that he'll take it._ "

I let the silence linger. She speaks again after a few moments.

" _So Kasumi and Shepard are in one skycar. And we're in the other. What was our cover story again?_ "

"We're PMCs who delight in the war economy." I said. "We're lobbyists for governments in some of the colonies that recommend going to war against insurgents. Really, the more lingo we bury Hock in, the more believable our cover. He doesn't sound like the kind of person that fact-checks, so long as he gets paid."

" _Another reason that The Illusive Man refused anything to do with him._ " Miranda said. " _If nothing else, Cerberus is careful with its money._ "

"4 billion credits?" I asked.

" _Your sister is an exception._ "

I finish getting ready and look in the mirror again. The best I'm gonna look.

"Alright, I'll see you out on the docking bay where the skycars are." I said. "Considering that the Normandy isn't going to be landing close to Hock's mansion. That might set off some alarm bells."

" _Sounds good. See you up there…Wesson._ "

I wrinkle my nose. Miranda's right. These _are_ stupid names.

The Normandy docks itself on one of Bekenstein's many private shapce terminals, and within moments I can feel the magnetized locks holding the ship in place. I get to the decontamination chamber with Sis and Kasumi. Sis is wearing her hair down, and I notice that it's a sharper red than before.

"You're not wearing your hair up, Sis?" I asked. She snorts.

"What mercenary bothers keeping her hair up like a good little Alliance girl?" She replied. Kasumi shrugged.

"The black dress is a nice look, Miss Gunn." She said. Sis smiles.

"I try my best."

The door opens and we step out onto the dock. There are a few valets waiting for us, with a pair of skycars. As Sis and Kasumi get into their car, Sis looks over at me, and frowns.

"Where's your wife, Wesson?"

I realize that Sis is already easily sliding into the role that she's supposed to be playing. So I decide that I might as well have some fun with it, too.

"Not sure. The lady does love her get-togethers. Maybe she wanted to get extra ready."

Kasumi pops her head out of the skycar, and then looks off past us and towards the Normandy.

"Well, I think that her extra preparations might have paid off." She said. Now Sis is looking in the same direction. So, naturally, I turn around to see what they're staring at-

…

…

…Wow.

…

Miranda is walking towards us, having disembarked from the Normandy's decontamination chamber. Her hips are swaying slightly with each step. And she is dressed in this little red number that…well, I don't have the words to describe how well that outfit works for her. She's kicking my ass in the looks department. And then some.

She slides up to me, and hooks her arm under mine.

"We shouldn't keep our host waiting, dear." She purrs. I don't know if she's just in character or if she's doing this just to fuck with me. I'm glad that the beard is covering my face, so that no one can see that my jaw is slightly agape.

"Of course, dear." I said.

The valet opens the door, I help "Mrs. Smith" into the vehicle, and within moments we're up in the air and following Kasumi and Sis.

We ride in silence for a few moments before I find my voice.

"You know, for someone that isn't a fan of these social settings, you sure don't mind drawing attention to yourself." I said. Miranda shrugs, and I can feel a twinge of smug satisfaction radiating off of her.

"I don't like parties. But I don't mind getting attention every now and then." She said. She looks over at me and winks. It sends a shiver down the back of my neck.

" _Now that we're all in the air, this is our little briefing._ " Kasumi's voice came into our TeamCom. " _Our friend Hock is throwing a little party for his closest friends. A couple dozen of the worst liars, cheaters, and mass murderers you'll ever want to meet, all bringing gifts as a tribute to the man himself._ "

"So, an average Tuesday on Omega." I remark. Miranda smiles.

" _Glad to see your sense of humor is so similar to John Shepard's, 'Mr. Smith.' Our tribute is a lovely statue of Commander Shepard's old friend Saren Arterius, rendered in loving detail and filled to the brim with our weapons and armor._ "

"Hm." Miranda said. "Won't they give us trouble over the sidearm I may or may not have strapped to my thigh right now?"

She's really going for the femme fatale look right now.

" _You can keep a pistol as long as it's concealed. They won't hassle you over a sidearm._ " Kasumi said. " _Once we're inside, Shepard and I will make our way to the vault door, somewhere in the back of the ballroom. Then we case the security and start peeling away the layers. The statue should be there, waiting for you to crack it open and suit up._ " There was a pause. " _Then we just waltz into the vault and take back Keiji's greybox._ "

I clear my throat.

"So…we're just going to walk out of there?" I asked. "With no threat whatsoever of being stopped?"

There's a pause.

" _Yeah._ " Kasumi said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I look over at Miranda, and she just shrugs.

" _Come on, Johnny. You have the easier job. All you and Miranda have to do is mingle, drink some wine, hobnob with people you'd rather put a bullet through, and resist the temptation to kill everyone you see in there. Your sister and I have the hard job: cracking into a near-impenetrable safe, in the middle of a high-class party, and then disable security and get in and out without being detected._ "

"I'm not sure which job is actually the harder one." Miranda remarks.

I'm inclined to agree with her.

…

We land out on the veranda of the biggest and most ostentatious mansion I have ever seen. It's in the middle of nowhere, and it looks like it's modeling itself to be one of the Nos Astra towers. I haven't even met the guy, and already I despite this Donovan Hock guy. Sis and Kasumi have gotten out of their skycar, and are walking up to the front door. As Miranda and I get out of our car, I notice that there is a gold statue of a Turian that I assume is Saren being checked by security. And there's an issue.

"Just a moment, ma'am." One of the guards says to Sis. "There seems to be a problem with the statue."

"Is there a problem here?"

Oh god, he sounds even more pretentious when he opens his mouth. Donovan Hock is dressed to the nines in a white suit, and he walks down the steps to inspect what the hold-up is. He sees us, and I don't like the somewhat wolfish glint that passes through his eyes as he eyes up Miranda. He then turns towards the guard.

"No, sir. Just running a scan." The guard said. With that, Hock turns towards us.

"I don't believe we've met. Donovan Hock." He folds his arms behind his back, as if expecting us to bask in his magnificence. Sis nods.

"Samantha Gunn. Your reputation precedes you." She extends her hand. Donovan does not return the gesture.

I make a mental note to cut off Hock's hand by the end of the night.

"As does yours." Hock said to Sis. "You've been very busy lately, if the Extranet is to be believed."

"Sir, the scans aren't picking anything up." The guard said.

"I don't think our guests would come all the way from Illium just to cause trouble, do you?" Hock said. He turned towards us.

"You may pass through, Ms. Gunn. With my apologies for the hassle…but I will ask your companion to remain outside. You understand, I hope?"

"And why is that?" Sis asked. "Asuka here is a dear friend of mine, and a very well-behaved individual."

"Be that as it may, I don't like the look of your companion. So she stays outside." Hock said. "And this is _my_ gathering. Say your goodbyes if you must." He then turns towards Miranda and I. "And you must be Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I must say, I am quite impressed with what you've accomplished of late. A bill put forth in Thessia to ease regulations of gun shipments? You do the Lord's work."

I bite my tongue, as I am tempted to wonder just what the fuck kind of god he prays to that the idea of more guns in the hands of people is a good thing.

"We're all for the free market." Miranda said.

"And I thank you dearly for it." He takes her hand and kisses it. I make a note to cut off his _other_ hand by the end of the night. "May you enjoy your stay here, Mr. and Mrs. Smith." He walks away, leaving the two of us there to figure out what the hell we're going to do if Kasumi can't get into the party. But then we glance over and see that Kasumi has turned invisible.

Somehow, I doubt that Hock anticipated for that.

As soon as Hock has disappeared, Sis walks over towards us.

"Looks like Kasumi and I will be doing the heavy lifting." She said. "You two are just going to have to pretend that you are who you say you are." She looked us over. "You'll do fine."

She melts into the crowd.

…

"This is absolutely horrendous." Miranda muttered. She stares at the glass in her hand, and at the green-colored drink it holds. "For such a high-society party, Hock is terrible with his drink choices."

I'm too busy obnoxiously downing my shot of the James Bond to notice her. She sees me and resists the urge to throttle me, judging by the facial expression.

"Oh for God's sake, are you a child? Where are your manners?"

I finish the shot, and look at her.

"I figured that mercenaries don't care about table manners, _honey._ " I said. She scoffs.

"They do if they want to secure big-time deals." She takes a sip of her own drink, forcing it down with some degree of bravery. "You'd be surprised how many PMCs Cerberus had to turn away because of bad table manners at a business meal."

"And you were a part of that?" I asked. We're both leaning against the bar now, people-watching. Somewhere, I'm sure, Sis is wheedling in and through the crowd, trying to help Kasumi find a way into the vault. This whole op requires a delicate approach, and that's not really my style.

"I was." Miranda said. "It could be rather distracting when it was clear the men weren't exactly interested in what I had to say." She said. She takes another shot, and sighs. "It's a miserable existence."

I blink once, and stare at her.

"Come again?" I asked.

"I've been genetically designed to be superior in every way. Faster, smarter, stronger…prettier…" She trails off on that last one with a sincere regret in her voice. "Not one of those traits are mine. Father picked them out like he was grocery-shopping. I can't take credit for any of my accomplishments, unlike your sister. The only thing I'm responsible for are my mistakes."

I wonder if it's the alcohol that's talking, but I'm not about to let her wallow in totally undeserved self-pity.

"Miranda, I have a question for you." I asked. "How…involved were you in…my sister?" I asked. She looks at me poignantly.

"Every step of the way. When…Wilson was unable to put together some of the more delicate procedures…it was me that took over. I'm not exaggerating when I say that if it wasn't for me…your sister might not have come off of that operating table."

I try to block out the thought of them literally putting Janey back together like a sort of science experiment, but there is something that Miranda said that I want to address.

"Let me ask you something: did your genetics save my sister, or did you?" I asked. Miranda shrugs.

"My genetics made me smarter, which made me better equip-"

"Knock it off." I said. "Your could be genetically disposed to being the best rifleman on the planet and on your tests you're shit. At the end of the day, it isn't our 'gifts' that make our successes or failures. We alone are responsible for the choices that we make. The successes we have. Sure, having higher genetic disposition to something _helps_ , but it only goes so far. At the end of the day, _you_ make you. Not the cells in your body." I looked at her. "From what I can see, you have done quite well for yourself."

Miranda looks a little bit speechless.

"…Thank you, John." She said.

At that moment, the in-house band begins to play a somewhat upbeat song. I can't help but chuckle. I recognize this tune, even if it's been converted to a 'big-band' style for the sake of the environment. People are slowly making their way out to the center of the dance floor, and soon there's a large congregation of people dancing. I look over at Miranda, and I smirk. She looks back at me and smiles back.

"What?" She asked. I hold out my hand.

"Mrs. Baretta Smith, may I have this dance?" I ask. She looks positively thunderstruck.

"…I don't dance." She said. I smirk.

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun." I said. "Give us a chance to do something instead of just glower at everyone in the ballroom."

She still seems hesitant.

" _One_ dance." She said finally. "And I get to lead."

"If you say so." I said.

…

She's a lot more graceful than her initial hesitance would lead you to believe. I think that she was given more than a few "requested" lessons in ballroom dancing by her father, the kind where you were always "allowed" the possibility of not doing it…but at the same time you knew that you were stuck. She really must have had a terrible childhood. The mirror opposite of Janey and I.

I follow her lead gracefully, and before long her hesitation seems to go away. I doubt that she expected me to be as good at this as I am. But it comes with the territory. Janey and I are siblings, but we aren't twins and we are each better than the other at certain things.

And in no universe is it true that Jane Shepard is a better dancer than I am.

"You're…impressive." Miranda said, as I twirl her around once. I smirk.

"When you're as big as I am, you have to learn to be a little bit graceful." I said. "Otherwise you'll end up standing awkwardly off to the side of the fun…or in the middle while everyone awkwardly orbits around you. Really, it's about avoiding being awkward."

"I can tell, seeing as how you used the word three times." Miranda said. She's smiling a little bit, and we glide across the dance floor. And it's a strange thing: as the song plays and I take great care follow Miranda's lead, I don't find myself eventually drifting to my demons and the darkest corners of my mind.

I find that I'm starting to enjoy myself.

"Do you wonder what's taking so long?" Miranda asked. I frown.

"Yeah. If Sis hasn't figured something out in the first fifteen minutes, it means that something is about to get blown up."

"Did they even get into the safe?" Miranda asked. "I…haven't really been paying attention."

That's when I realize that both of us forgot to keep our TeamCom synched to Sis and Kasumi.

I'm about to reach to my ear and talk, when I see something out of the corner of my eye. It's Hock at the edge of the party. A few of his guards are talking to him, and they're all clearly agitated about something.

"Aw…shit." I said.

"What?" Miranda asked. I lead her smoothly off to the side of the dance floor, and then press a finger to the TeamCom I've kept in as an earpiece.

"Sis, you're burned. Hock's onto you!"

Dead silence. And then radio static.

"Fuck!" I growl. "They must be in the vault. It must be tampering with communications." I subtly gesture over to Hock. "I bet he's going to send some of his best men and flush them out."

"Do you think that the Commander and Kasumi are in danger?" Miranda asked.

"Nah." I said. "But it might be fun to hit them from another side." I reveal the Predator I have strapped to my ankle. Miranda looks at it, and then smiles at me.

"I wondered why you were a little stilted while we danced." She said. "Come on. Let's go liven up things a little bit."

…

We made our way down an adjacent hallway, to where we figured the general direction of the vault was. I heard footsteps, and as soon as Miranda did she reacted. She leaned against me and let out a rather undignified snort-laugh, and I followed it up by stumbling over myself as well. As the guard rounded the corner, he was treated to the sight of what looked like a very drunk couple.

"Um, folks? This is restricted territo-"

He never got to finish the sentence as Miranda straightened up and put a shot between his eyes. As soon as he hit the ground, she grabbed his headset and wired it into her TeamCom. I grabbed the bastard's assault rifle, and loaded it. I didn't have both of my Predators with me, so I figured I'd stick to basic shock trooper work. I hadn't forgotten how to shoot a rifle, after all.

"They're making their way down the hallway ahead of us." Miranda said. "It runs perpendicular to this one. They're going to cut the Commander and Kasumi off. We need to intercept." She turned on her omnitool, and pressed a few buttons. "Here, I'll link the communications into your iDroid…why haven't you gotten an omnitool yet?"

"Can't beat the classics!" I said. She just rolled her eyes, and soon I heard the chatter of enemy troops in my ear.

We took a defensive position at the corner of the hallway. I looked up and saw that the ceiling was somewhat reflective, giving me a general (if warped) view of the hallway in front of me. As soon as I saw the group of soldiers coming down main street, I nodded to Miranda.

I popped out of cover and opened fire. I felt the gun roaring in my hands. The first guy in the line was taken out immediately with a lucky shot to the eye, while his buddy got cut up by the rest of the clip. The rest of them dove out of the way as best they could.

" _Shit! We're running into resistance!"_ One of them cried out.

" _Resistance? From WHOM?_ " Hock's voice screamed in our ears. As over-the-top on his microphone as he was in real life.

" _Don't kno-_ " The man got cut off when Miranda put a round through his upper torso. He got dragged out of the line of fire by his comrades, who continued to wildly fire at us. I doubled back towards the fallen merc from before, and then dug through his belt. Oh good, he had grenades. I reached for one of them, primed it, and then nodded towards Miranda. As soon as I threw the thing, Miranda grabbed it in mid-air with her biotics and steered it towards the huddled group of soldiers down the hall. There was an explosion, some screaming, and then silence.

" _Alpha Team, RESPOND!_ " Hock roared. I just rolled my eyes. I looked over at Miranda.

"You ok?" I asked. She had a tuft of hair in her eyes, looking slightly disheveled. She blew it out of her face, and nodded. Somehow, her dress had not been damaged.

"I'll survive." She said. "Anything from the Commander?" She asked. I press the TeamCom on my ear.

"Sis! You there?"

Static.

"Nothing yet." I said. "Guess we have to keep moving."

"I swear, I am going to _kill_ Hock if this dress gets ruined." Miranda said. "It cost…well, I'd rather not think about that."

…

We come out to a large docking yard in the back end of the mansion complex. We're up high, looking down on the place. I whistle.

"What's he need all these pretty toys for?" I asked. Miranda just shakes her head.

"It's for his dealings and shippings. He doesn't even have a black site to launder the sale of these weapons…just in his own backyard…" She smacks her forehead. "And to think that we were going to trust him to make deals. Ugh! Sometimes I wonder who's really running the organization."

Imagine that. Cerberus has terrible elements to their business structure as well. Now I've seen everything.

At that moment, we hear a loud roaring, and see a gunship coated in a thick mass effect field come up from underneath the docking station, and begin to fire on two figures in the distance. Two figures that look very much like Sis and Kasumi.

Check that. _Now_ I've seen everything.

"That's not good." Miranda said. We see Sis and Kasumi duck for cover as a fusillade of bullets pepper the ground where she stood, and I swear I can _hear_ Sis cursing from all the way up here. "If we don't think of something, I doubt that they're going to last long against that gunship."

"Got anything on you that might help?" I asked. Miranda just sneers at me.

"Sure, let me just tear my dress and show my leg at him. Maybe that'll work." She growls. I can't resist, and the words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"…Worth a shot."

The slap I get is 100% deserved. And absolutely worth it.

"Focus!" Miranda said. "Let's look around. There has to be something up here that might get his attention. It's a weapons shipping platform. There has to be something big!"

As she speaks, I look past her and see a couple of crates. The timing couldn't be better, because while I can't read the language that is printed on the side…I can absolutely read the serial number and schematic.

I raise the assault rifle, and fire off the remaining bullets into the side of the crate. As the wood loosens, I run over and pull it off, revealing the guns inside. Miranda sees them, and does a double take.

"Are those…"

M-98 Widows. A crate full of them. Garrus would shit himself in envy if he saw this right now.

"Grab one!" Miranda shouted. She grabs one of the rifles, and crouches into a firing position, using another crate as a balance for the gun. I'm about to grab one myself, when I realize that I am treated to the sight of a beautiful woman holding a sniper rifle, her hair slightly tousled, and not looking one bit the worse for wear.

I'm pretty sure this has been one of my dreams before.

I snap myself out of my reverie and grab myself a Widow. Sis was always the better crack shot with these things, so the best I can hope for is getting somewhere in the ballpark of where I'm aiming at.

But then again, this is a Widow. Just grazing someone with one of the rounds is good enough to blow their head clean off.

My first shot was supposed to get the bastard right in the cockpit. It ends up somewhere in the rotors. But Miranda's shot was nearly-synched to mine: her shot struck the undercarriage and loosened the couplings for the rocket launcher. The combined force of two Widows actually sent the gunship into a staggered tailspin.

" _Holy shit!_ " Sis' voice came in over the TeamCom. " _About time you two showed up!_ "

Kasumi said nothing, and instead started to sprint towards the staggered gunship. She pulled off what I can best describe as a superhero maneuver: leaps aboard the cockpit, blows a raspberry at Hock, and then uses her omnitool to disengage the mass effect shielding. And then she fucking backflipped off of the gunship with all the grace of a diver, and landed perfectly in a three-point landing. Miranda raised her sniper rifle, and fired again. She nailed right between the rotor blades, and shredded the couplings that held them in place. The gunship started to veer out of control, alarms shrieking, and crashed into the ground with a terrific explosion that knocked Miranda and I back.

"Sis!" I shouted. "You there?"

There is a terribly long pause. And then I hear-

" _Goddammit, Miranda, you owe me a new dress._ "

Yup. She's alright.

…

We make our way down towards the wreckage of the gunship. Sis and Kasumi are privately chatting, and soon I see Kasumi putting something on over her eyes. It's got to be her greybox. She's totally locked into whatever it is that she's viewing, so for a while I guesss that she's going to be quiet.

Sis walks over to us. Her dress is ripped and torn in certain places, no doubt from the shrapnel that came from Hock's crash landing. Miranda is a little bit tousled, as am I, but Sis is clearly the one that took the biggest beating. All she can do is shrug.

"Buy me a drink at least, and I'll forgive losing the dress." She said. Miranda laughs.

"Fair enough." She said.

I let them talk a little bit, and then I walk over to the crashed gunship. I can see Donovan Hock. He's slowly crawling out of the cockpit. One of his eyes is blown out, with a shard of shrapnel rammed into it. His face is bloodier than raw meat, and as he drags himself out of the cockpit I can see that both of his legs are broken.

 _Just like Sergeant Powers. One moment he was in the middle of the field, giving orders. The next, a shell turned him into a mulched shell of a man. It was a miracle that he survived, the doctors said. I gazed upon his wrecked body, and wondered if their definition of a miracle was somehow deficient._

I blinked once, and the memory disappears. I walk over to Hock. Really, I'm doing him a favor. He looks up at me, and he speaks in a rattled whisper. Most of his teeth are broken or missing.

"Smith…why….?" He whispered. I pull out my Predator. He's a wretch, but I don't feel mercy towards him. Knowing he would not be so kind in my place.

"My name's John Shepard, jackass."

I put him out of his misery.

I walk back towards the trio. Miranda and Sis are staring at me in a combination of surprise and regretful acceptance. There was no way that Hock was going to pull through in a hospital. Not after that fall. I did the right thing. It might not have been good. But it was the right thing.

We become aware of a sound. Sniffling, and even a hiccup or two. Kasumi removes the greybox. She's crying.

"Kasumi?" Sis asked, her voice gentle and concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Keiji…" Kasumi murmured. "Keiji…was in there. And he…he said that I have to destroy the greybox…So I…So I'm safe…" She scrunches her eyes shut. "I can't though, Shepard! This is all I have left of him. He was…he was the greatest and…I can keep him. I can keep this!" She looks at Sis, a pleading glint in her eyes. "Shepard, please let me keep this. Let me have one last memento of the man I loved."

I see the conflict in Sis' eyes. I know that her first instinct is to tell Kasumi to hang onto something that reminds her of her loved one. Because Sis wants to make people happy. But I can see that she has her doubts: try as she might, Kasumi will never be able to replace whatever she had with Keiji with…this copy. It's not the same. I see that Sis is looking at me, and I realize that she wants me to say something. Kasumi even turns to see me and my opinion.

I glance back at the wreckage of the gunship.

 _The flames and the smoke and the fire are nearly intoxicating. The battle is over. Yeah, many have lost. But who won, again? I'm not sure. All I know is that I'm standing here. And her body lies at my feet._

 _And I curse whatever cruel god there is that I am not in her place._

"Let it go." I said. I let the words hang in the silence. Kasumi looks heartbroken, so I keep speaking. "Whatever it was that you saw in there…it wasn't Keiji. It was a shadow. We can love passionately, and we can move mountains for the ones that we love…but we can't bring them back. They're gone…but they're not." I pointed to my heart. Or, rather, to a spot right in between my pectorals. "They stay with us, living on in our memories of them. But that's all that they can be. And whatever that greybox showed you…it's a cruel trick. It promises you more than what is actually there. That Keiji in there won't laugh at your new jokes. He won't be there to help you plot new heists. He'll never be there as you think about retiring. He will keep you stunted." I close my eyes. "The real Keiji will never leave you. But he wouldn't want you to stay frozen in time, forgetting to live the rest of your life."

"John…I _loved_ Keiji." Kasumi whispered. "How can you say that I just let him go?"

"Because I know what you feel." I said. I don't know what's pushing me to say it, but I might as well say it. "I lost someone I loved…once. And it tears me apart every day, wondering about the things that I could or couldn't have said. And I can't change that. It eats my alive, but I can't change it. But there's one thing that I know for sure: if she'd made a greybox like this, and I had it…I would have used it forever. And it would have made things worse for me."

There is silence. Kasumi sniffles.

"Let me…let me think about it." She finally said. I nod.

"It's your decision, in the end." I said. Sis spoke up.

"And Hock knew that you had the cypher for this critical information." She said. "What's to say that others won't be able to figure it out, too? I don't want you getting hurt, Kasumi."

She is silent for a moment, and then she speaks.

"Alright." She said. "You're…you're right. Both of you. It's just…" She sighs, and I can see the tears coming down her cheeks. "I just feel like I'm losing him again."

"If it makes you feel better…" I said. "I can do this for you."

She looks at me.

"I…alright." She hands me the greybox gingerly. As she does, Sis takes a protective hand and places it around her shoulder. I feel the device in my hand. It's small, light, and full of fragile equipment and pieces. The entire thing could collapse in my hands.

Wordlessly, I throw it up into the air. I draw the Predator, and with a single shot the greybox explodes into a million shimmering pieces of sparks and debris. Kasumi gasps slightly, but says nothing. I keep holding my gun upwards, and then I hire again. And then again. I never knew this man, but if he was that important to Kasumi, then I suppose he deserves a 21-gun salute. I turn towards Kasumi.

"He'll always be with you." I said.

 _Just like she is always with me._

…

It's later in the night, long after sunset, and I am sitting in the mess hall. Sis left to go to bed a few minutes ago, having spent some time at the counter brooding over a glass of scotch. She'd been comforting Kasumi for a few hours, and she told me that the thief harbored me no ill will. I was appreciative of that, though I was sure that the sight of me might sting Kasumi's eyes for at least the next couple of days. It's totally deserved.

I close my eyes, and rest my head on the tabletop. For a moment, I consider drinking myself into a stupor. I basically killed two men out on that platform, ostensibly for mercy. But I doubt it.

Then I feel a presence.

"Are you alright?"

I look up and see Miranda has taken a seat next to me. She's drinking some strong-smelling coffee; no doubt she expects a late night. I sigh, and nod.

"It never gets easier." I said. "Everything I told Kasumi was the truth, you know. But that doesn't make it any easier to tell."

"Sometimes we have to do difficult things for the ones that we care about. I know that for sure." Miranda said, sipping her coffee. I nod.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you do."

There's another pause.

"I'll do it."

I look over at her.

"You'll do what?"

"I'll look for Major Kyle." Miranda said flatly. "I…don't expect miracles. He disappeared after getting a medical discharge from the Alliance, and he stopped using anything other than paper money shortly after. It will take me a long time, and he might not even be alive. But…if it means that much to you…I will find him. I just have to ask a question, John."

I know what it is, but I still speak anyway.

"What, Miranda?"

"Suppose we find him…alive…what are you going to do with him?"

I do not say anything.

Because I have no answer.

A/N: It breaks my heart breaking Kasumi's like that, but I am of the personal opinion that it's better to deal with the hurt and try to move on from the pain of losing a loved one than to forever dwell on a shadow of what they used to be. It's similar to Dumbledore's reasoning for why Harry Potter shouldn't use the Mirror of Erised: sometimes it does not do to dwell on dreams of what could have been. Hope that makes sense.

In somewhat lighter news, this story has a TVTropes page! For any of you Tropers out there, feel free to check it out and add to the page if you want: it might be cool to see what tropes are applicable in my work. I have a couple that come to mind for sure, but it's always fun to open things up to the community.

Unfortunately, is a bit of a jerk and doesn't allow for the uploading of links to a page…so a simple google search of the title of this Fic plus "TVTropes" should get you there.

We've got some really exciting chapters coming up the pipe. Seeing as how John is clearly thinking of some sort of revenge against the man who betrayed him in Major Kyle, I wonder how he would react to being in a similar situation…when he has to help someone on Shepard's team get revenge on a man that cost the lives of a team.

…Whoops. _Spoilers._


	29. Eye for an Eye

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

I'm busy sitting in one of the chairs off to the side of the galaxy map up in the Normandy's CIC, casually cleaning the interior of one my guns. I notice that while they're rather wrapped up in their own business, the regular grunts on the Normandy systems don't seem so damned afraid of me. There might be a respectful distance that they're cultivating, but in the end they're not about to shrink away from me like cockroaches avoiding light. Sis is currently at the helm of the galaxy map, her finger tapping her chin as she ponders the next place to go. Finally, she looks over at me.

"What are you looking at me for?" I asked. "You know as well as I do that you're the navigator." I said. She smirks, and rolls her eyes.

"Okay, Bro." She said. Finally she seems to come to a conclusion. "We're running a little bit low on some materials. I think we should set a course for the Citadel. We might need to pick up a few luxury goods."

As she is talking, I notice that Garrus has emerged from his usual holding in the main battery. As soon as he hears her say the word 'Citadel,' I notice him perk up considerably. His mandibles splay out a little bit, that's for sure. He also seems to think that no one has noticed him up there. I roll my eyes. Turians were never big on stealth.

As Sis finishes up compiling the coordinates to send to Joker to direct the Normandy, Garrus can wait no longer. He clears his throat.

"Shepard…you have a moment?"

"For you, Garrus? Of course." Sis said. But then Garrus looks over and sees me.

"Actually, you too, Doc. I think you might be interested in this."

Well, that's rather unusual. But I suppose I'd rather avoid pissing off Sis by saying no. Other than Liara and that Quarian…what's her name again? I can't remember. Anyway, other than those two Garrus is clearly my sister's closest friend. It's the point that if my sister didn't bat for the other team, I wouldn't be surprised if they got together.

But there I go sticking my nose in someplace that I don't have any fucking business: my sister's love life.

I digress.

…

Sis leads us to the elevator, and soon the elevator stops at the Captain's quarters. Considering the privacy of this place, it's clear that whatever Garrus told her in the interim before I joined the group was extremely sensitive. Sis takes a seat, and opens the minifridge next to her couch. She grabs a bottle of something, and tosses it to me. I catch it on reflex, just like when we were both in the academy. I look and can't resist a smile.

Old-style Sam Adams, Boston Lager. Sis really does love me.

"You two remember that I had a team on Omega." Garrus began. He was pacing back and forth. He looked over at me. "I know that I kept pressuring you into joining but…in retrospect, I'm glad that I didn't. Otherwise you'd be dead along with them."

"How'd they get killed?" I asked.

"I was betrayed…" Garrus said. His expression got noticeably darker. "By a man named Sidonis." He positively snarled. "I've been tracking him for a while now, and I finally have a lead." He turned back away from us. "You humans have an expression: 'an eye for an eye.' The way I see it, Sidonis cost me ten pairs of eyes with the death of my team. I intend to collect on the balance."

"This doesn't sound like you, Garrus." Sis said.

"With all due respect, things changed in the years after your death." He said. I see the hurt expression that crosses Sis' face, and I decide to speak my mind.

"Why don't you rethink what you just said to my sister, someone who's your friend?" I said. Garrus whirls around and stares accusatorily at me.

"You of all people should know what I'm going through, John." I said, and I notice that he didn't use my nickname. "I'm more aware than you think. I know that you have Lawson digging around looking for Major Kyle."

I practically leap out of my chair and get right up in his grill.

"Motherfucker, I dare you to say another word." I said. "Or else I'm gonna gouge out your fucking eyes."

" _ENOUGH!_ " Sis snarls, leaping between us and effortlessly separating us. I think that Garrus forgot, along with me, that Sis has been boosted by Cerberus to be stronger than either of us. "This isn't getting us anywhere!" She looks at Garrus. "Why bring up Sidonis now?" She asked.

"Because there's an identity forger on the Citadel named 'Fade,' and there are reports from a good source of mine that 'Fade' met with Sidonis. I want to know where Fade sent Sidonis, and from there I'm going to track him."

"Are you sure there's no other way?" Sis asked. Garrus just stared coldly at her.

"Shepard, this is my vow. I need to repay the debt that Sidonis foisted on me when he killed my FRIENDS!" Garrus suddenly snaps. Sis stares at him for a long while, and then she finally sighs.

"There's only one condition." Sis said.

"That being?" Garrus asked.

"…We bring Tali with us."

…

The skycar flies through the air, cutting past the traffic and heading towards the Zakera Ward of the Citadel. Garrus did his homework: he'd managed to reach out to and schedule a meeting with this 'Fade' fellow, in one of the abandoned warehouses tucked deep inside the Zakera Ward. So for now the plan was for the four of us to go and meet this Fade fellow.

" _I have analyzed crime reports, and have detected complaints about a forger named 'Fade' in C-Sec write ups._ " EDI chimed in over our TeamCom headsets. " _Perhaps you should look there, Commander Shepard._ "

"That's a good suggestion, EDI." Sis said. She looked over at the three of us. "Whatever happens, let's stick in teams of two. I'll go with Garrus. Bro, you go with Tali."

I get what she's doing, and I respect it. Sis is a calming presence on a person, no matter how spitfire raging they get. But sticking me with Tali? I barely know her. And I imagine that she's positively terrified of me.

Still…that is a pretty nice shotgun she's carrying. Maybe she's better than I think at this sort of thing.

"Oh…okay." Tali said, in response to Sis' declaration. Clearly she's not thrilled to be working with me.

As soon as we land, Garrus immediately hops off. Tali follows after. I'm about to follow, when Sis grabs me and whispers in my ear.

"I'm going to take Garrus shopping for a sniper rifle or two. I want to make sure that he _seriously_ wants to go through with this. I want you to take Tali and ask our C-Sec liason Bailey if he's heard anything about Fade. I'd do it myself but…" She sighed. "You're better at that sort of thing than I am. And I don't want Garrus to do anything that might hurt him."

As the two of us split off from Garrus and Sis (the former of whom is quite miffed that he's been roped into shopping instead of hunting), I turn towards Tali.

"Known my sister long?"

"Huh? Oh, yes! For, well technically about two years, even though she was dead for most of them." She said. I smirk.

"And did she ever mention me?"

"Only the best things, um, Jonathan!"

I chuckle.

"You're a terrible liar, Tali. And just 'John' will suffice."

I walk up to the front desk of the Zakera Ward C-Sec station, and an attendant comes over to me.

"Can I help you, sir?" She asked. I nod, and put on my best buttering-up voice.

"Yes! As a matter of fact, I'm looking for Captain Bailey. Is he in?"

"Do you have an appointment?" She asked. I smirk.

"I don't, but I'm no threat, sugar. See? I'm unarmed and my friend here is open-carryng." I gesture to Tali. "Even if we thought about trying _something_ , we'd get popped before we could get a thought off, much less a shot. And I just need some information from Captain Bailey. Think you can tell him that Shepard's brother needs to speak to him, baby doll?"

Cracked her like an egg.

"Oh, um…of course." She said, a little color showing up on her cheeks. "Let me go get him." She walks off. As I watch her go, I can see Tali just staring at me and shaking her head.

"You are pathetic." She finally said.

"What can I say?" I asked. "Once upon a time I used to look pretty good." I absently stroke my beard. It's getting pretty shaggy. I might need to trim it when we get back to the Normandy. I'm not about to cut it off, though. Doing that would mean that I have to see the scars again. And see who I really am underneath all of this.

"…John?" Tali asked. "Are you ready to go?"

I blink, and realize that Captain Bailey is standing in front of us, patiently waiting for us to follow him into his office. We do so, and he takes a seat at his desk.

"Nice to see that you're still in one piece, John. Both you and your sister." The captain said. "And seeing as how you haven't made a mess of things yet on the Citadel, I'm inclined to help you out as a bit of a freebie." He smiled. "What do you need?"

"We're looking for a forger." I said. "Apparently he goes by the name of 'Fade.'"

"Oh yeah, I've heard of him." Bailey said. His eyes narrowed as he started searching through the files on his terminal. "He's been a thorn in the Network's side for about a year now – he works with the Blue Suns."

I'm not surprised.

"Do you know where we can find him?" Tali asked. Captain Bailey chuckled.

"If I knew that, sweetheart, he'd already be in a cell. The best I can do is put you on the right trail." He started to tap away at a few of the keys. "There's a warehouse in the marketplace. Some of Fade's contacts work out of there. Go ask them some questions." He pauses, and looks up at me. "Gently, of course."

"Why the need to specify?" Tali asked, as I led her out of the office and out into the marketplace."

"I can play a little rough." I admit.

" _Bro, what's your status?"_

"Just got done talking to Bailey." I said. "He recommended plugging a few of Fade's contacts in the marketplace for information."

" _That's all he had for us?_ "

"I'm betting Fade has an insider on C-Sec." I said. "It's the only explanation for how little info there is on him." I pause. "How's he doing?"

" _I'm concerned, Bro. He's at the rifle shop, and he's asking the keeper for the biggest and nastiest rounds you can get. I had to steer him away from buying a Widow._ "

A Widow? Garrus doesn't just want revenge; he wants retribution. Even I have to shudder a little bit at that.

"Well, keep him distracted a little longer while I go talk to Fade's buddies." I said. "And from there, we'll meet up again."

" _Understood. How's Tali holding up?_ "

I look over the Quarian, who seems to be awkwardly avoiding my eye contact. I smirk.

"She's alright. Hope she knows her way around that big-ass shotgun of hers."

At the sound of this, Tali just stares at me and wordlessly racks the weapon. With one arm. I didn't think that was physically possible for someone with the spindly arms of the Quarians.

I think she'll be alright.

…

We make our way to the warehouse. It's a little bit too quiet. And not very occupied. The only exception are the two Krogan that stand in there, leaning against crates and other things. They get one look at us, and wordlessly walk over towards us, as if daring us to try something. I bet they're related, considering that their crests are the same green color. And then a Volus walks out from behind some crates and towards us.

"Fade?" Tali asked. "You're not what I expected."

"Looks can be _fssssht_ deceiving, clan-less."

The way Tali's body goes rigid, it's clear that the man just insulted her. If it wasn't for the two Krogan flanking him, I'd probably make him regret those words.

"So, uh, which one of you wants to disappear?" He asked. I narrow my eyes. And then I ask my question.

"Actually, we're trying to make someone re-appear."

The Volus seems a bit thrown off.

"Ah…that's not the service we provide."

"Why not make an exception?" I asked. And then I grinned my little shark grin. "Or is this above your pay grade to actually know how your boss runs his business?"

"Shit…shoot them! Shoot them you lumbering oafs!" The Volus cries out.

Tali and I are faster. I pull out my two Carnifex pistols, and aim them at the foreheads of the Krogan. Tali has her shotgun pointed at the Volus. I look the Krogan in the eye, and then I shrug.

"I'm betting you're not getting paid enough for this shit?" I asked. They are silent. I chuckle. "Relax. One way or another, this isn't going to come back on you. Why don't you all go get a drink or something?"

They stare at me, before they wordlessly lumber off somewhere else.

"Just like that?" The Volus asked. "You're not getting paid for this!" He sighs. "What's the point of having protection if they won't protect you?"

At that moment, there's a gunshot. The Volus squeaks in fright, and falls on his ass. I barely have time to see the blue blur rush past me before Garrus is standing over the Volus, a pistol pointed towards him.

"We're looking for someone." He said. "A client of yours."

"Not mine. I'm not Fade! I just work for him…sort of." The Volus said.

"Somehow I don't believe you." Garrus said. I can see Sis is about to move, but this is a situation where Garrus is gonna need a bit of a shock to listen.

So I walk up and press my pistol against the back of his head.

"John!" Tali shouts in shock. Sis is about to move, but then she hesitates. She's good at reading people. She knows what I'm doing.

"John…it's not wise to sneak up on a Turian." Garrus said darkly.

I just pull the hammer back.

"Step away from the Volus." I said. "Or I fire."

Garrus stares back at me over his shoulder. For a very long time. Finally, he sighes and slowly moves away. I lower my gun, and holster it. Sis turns to the Volus.

"So if you're not Fade, then would you point us to him?" She asked.

"Yes!" The Volus said. "Of course. He's in the factory district, works out of the old prefab foundry."

"I know the place." Garrus said.

"He's got a lot of mercs out there." The Volus said. "They're pretty dangerous. Harkin thinks they're protecting him."

"Harkin?" I asked. But then I see Garrus and Sis both sigh and smack their foreheads in synchronized frustration. "You know him?" I asked.

"He was a cop in C-Sec." Garrus said. "A complete and utter waste of space and money."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Sis said. "The last time I saw him I'm pretty sure he was checking me out. Thought about decking him, but then I figured eh…he'll get slapped with a sexual harassment suit one of these days."

"So the reason that 'Fade' isn't being caught by C-Sec is because he's using his knowledge of the system to get around any investigation." I said. "I gotta admit. I'm pretty impressed."

"The Blue Suns use his information and abilities to get their people into positions and businesses all around the Citadel." The Volus said.

"Bastard." Garrus growled. "He's using C-Sec to help these scum."

"Interesting." I said. "But if we're this set on finding Sidonis, then we need to go after this Harkin guy." Sis nodded in agreement.

"Agreed. Let's head out for the warehouse. I have to admit…I'm looking forward to seeing the look on Harkin's face when he sees me again."

"So…I can go?" The Volus asked.

I looked over at Sis, who shrugged. Garrus nodded.

"You can go. Sure. But if we can't find Harkin, we're going to come back for you."

"Oh…good." The Volus said, and rather hastily made a retreat.

…

As we flew through the air towards the prefab foundry complexes, I took stock of everyone in the skycar. Sis was busy cleaning out the interior of her assault rifle, and making sure that she had enough ammo. Tali was sitting there, quietly humming something to herself. It sounded like…well, I don't know what it sounded like, but it was a bit of a soothing sound. But Garrus didn't seem soothed at all. The way he was gripping the steering wheel, it was as if he was trying to crush it in his bare hands.

We landed the skycar just outside the entrance to the prefab foundry. I noticed right away that there was a group of Blue Suns mercs ambling in front of the entrance, as well as a balding human in the center of them all. That had to be Harkin. Based on what Sis and Garrus had said about him, I'm not really surprised that he's dumb enough to be out in the open. A real information broker should stick to the shadows.

As we get out of the car, the Blue Suns mercs turn towards us in confusion, wondering who the fuck we were to start stomping in on their turf. But the look on Harkin's face was priceless. It was as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Shepard?" He asked weakly.

We all drew our guns in unison. A neat trick, despite the fact that the four of us had never worked a mission together. It was enough to get the Blue Suns mercs on their heels; they clearly didn't expect to be dealing with professionals. Harkin recovered, and turned tail to run.

"Stop them! Stop them!" He shouted, as he ran through the doorway.

As we dove to cover, I heard Garrus' enraged shout that seemed to echo through the station.

" _Run all you want, Harkin,_ _ **we'll find you!**_ "

These two Blue Suns mercs got cut down in record time: they might have been good, but four on two is a near-impossible disadvantage to overcome. It didn't take Tali long to hack the door, and as soon as it opened we were treated to an entire company of Blue Suns mercs that had been put on high alert.

I dove for cover behind a massive shipping container, and took stock of our options. Sis was pinned down in the center of the battlefield, using the short crates in front of her as limited cover. But they weren't going to last forever under the hail of gunfire in front of us. Garrus was off to the side, reloading his sniper rifle. I noticed that Tali was standing right next to me.

"Tali." I said. "Do you have anything that could distract them? Draw their fire off of Janey?"

"Um…I have my combat drone?" Tali offered. "It doesn't really have anything other than close quarters weaponry, though."

"That's good enough." I said. "Just have the thing weave in and out of their fire and see if you can get their attention. That should be enough to get Sis to break out. Or give Garrus enough time to line up a shot."

"Okay." Tali said. She pressed a button on her omnitool, and a small circular drone materialized next to her. Was…was that thing just floating around her invisibly for the entire time? This Quarian was clearly prepared for anything. "Go for the eyes!" She said to the drone, which silently sped off to start scaring the Blue Suns.

The sudden distraction was more than enough for Sis to pop out of cover, and as she did so she tackled a Blue Suns merc that had been hiding in cover right in front of her. With a single stomp to the back of the head, she rendered him motionless. I tried not to imagine just how hard that stomp had been.

Meanwhile, Garrus had finished reloading his sniper rifle, and with a growl of some sort of primal rage he popped out of cover. One shot killed a merc. And then another dropped. And then another splintered the face of a LOKI mech. And then he got two with one shot. Finally, the last shot of his clip struck a YMIR mech right in the "eye," which triggered the self-destruct sequence. We all took cover as the massive explosion did a number on the remaining forces, and then popped out of cover to clean up the remainder.

Garrus wordlessly ejected the heat sink. He was walking like a man possessed. No frills, no banter. Nothing. I could tell by Tali's body language that it was freaking her out.

We made our way through the factory, and it seemed that most of the Blue Suns had been in that initial assault. Harkin was clearly holed up in the command office of a factory floor: he was above us, but he wasn't going anywhere. It was eerily silent.

"You knew Harkin from C-Sec, huh?" I asked, trying to break the silence and get Garrus to speak.

"Yeah. And he was a pain in the ass back then, too." Garrus said. "But I'm in no mood for his games. If he doesn't cooperate, I'll beat him within an inch of his life."

"Is…that necessary, Garrus?" Tali asked. "You don't need to hurt him to get what you really want."

"Don't worry, Tali." Garrus said. "Harkin's a coward. He'll talk long before I can really hurt him."

I'm not convinced.

"Are you still planning on killing Sidonis when this is all said and done?" Sis aked.

"…That's the plan." Garrus said coldly. "It will be quick and painless. Unlike everyone he betrayed, he'll be spared the agony of a slow death." He looked over the industrial complex in front of us. "It's more than he deserves, but as long as he's dead, I'llbe satisfied."

"No you won't." I said.

Everyone stops and looks at me. Garrus stares at me suspiciously.

"Why the sudden change of heart, John?" He asked. "I highly doubt that you plan to show Major Kyle the mercy you want me to show Sidonis."

"I haven't made any decisions about Kyle." I said. "As far as I know, he's already dead and I'm chasing a ghost. I want answers, not necessarily retribution." I sigh. "You've got your mind made up. You want it to be one way." I looked out towards the industrial complex. "…But it's the other way."

"I don't understand." Garrus said testily.

He will.

…

The trek up to Harkin's hiding place was almost anticlimactic. There were a few LOKI mechs out there, and some of the machinery was being manipulated by Harkin, but getting in and around them was a piece of cake. Especially considering the difficulty of missions prior to this one. As we made our way up towards the control room, I could feel a sort of heavy melancholy in the air. I wasn't sure what it was, or even if the others felt something like it. But I felt something, and it wasn't anything that I was particularly happy about. It felt empty and pointless. But then I pushed the thought to the side.

We rounded the corner, and trained our guns on Harkin. He looked at us, and started to back up and away from us.

"You were close…" He said. "But not close en-UGH!"

It was then that I realized that Garrus had taken the other route up the stairs, and appeared out of nowhere and pistol-whipped Harkin to the ground. The former C-Sec officer squealed in pain as he clutched his shattered nose. I saw the thing swelling up, and winced. Garrus had put some hate into that swing. It was a wonder that he hadn't killed Harkin by accident.

Garrus dragged Harkin up to a wall, and slammed his back up against it. His forearm dug into Harkin's throat.

"So, Fade. Couldn't make yourself disappear, huh?" He snarled.

"Come on, Garrus…" Harkin said. "We can work this out. Whaddaya need?"

"I'm looking for someone." Garrus said. He lets Harkin go, and starts pacing back and forth. Harkin brushes himself off, and starts to rub his hands together. He's already slipping back into a dealmaker.

"Well, I guess we both have something the other one wants." Harkin said. Garrus responds by kneeing Harkin in the crotch. As he writhes on the ground, Sis speaks up.

"We're not here to ask favors, Harkin."

"You…don't say." Harkin said grumpily, as he wheezed and recovered. Garrus was undisturbed.

"You helped a friend of mine disappear." Garrus said. "I need to find him."

"I might need more information than that." Harkin said.

"His name was Sidonis. A Turian, came from-"

"I know who he is, and I'm not telling you squat." Harkin interrupted.

"Harkin, this doesn't have to be hard." Sis said. He looks at her, and then makes one of the dumbest decisions of his life.

He sneers.

"Screw you, bitch." He said. And then he spits at her.

Sis, to her credit, does not flinch. She just wordlessly wipes the spit off of her face. But Garrus and I both grab Harkin and slam him up against the wall again.

"Ach-ghr-hnng-" Harkin can't get a word out edgewise, probably because my forearm is pushing in his adam's apple.

"Don't give us the spiel about how giving out client information is bad for business." Garrus snarled. "We don't have time for that crap."

"Also, consider what situation you're in." I said. "You're dealing with two Omega boys. It ain't good cop, bad cop." I can see the fear forming in his eyes. "It's _bad cop, worse cop._ "

Garrus then slams him to the ground, and starts to step on his neck.

"You know what else is bad for business?" Garrus asked. "A _broken neck._ "

"Guhh…Alright, alright! Get off me!" Harkin wheezed.

I'd stepped back. So far, Garrus isn't doing a very good job of not hurting Harkin that much. As he lets go, and the former C-Sec officer gets back to his feet, Harkin stumbles back up to a standing position.

"Terminus really changed you, huh, Garrus?" He asked.

"No. Sidonis just opened my eyes." Garrus replied back. "Now arrange a meeting."

Defeated, Harkin made his way over to one of his terminals. He fired up the communication, and began to speak.

"Yeah, it's me. There's a chance that your identity might be compromised. That's why I'm calling you. I'm sending an agent. Where do you want to meet?"

As he's speaking, I can see that Garrus has drawn his pistol.

"Alright, he'll be there." Harkin said. "Don't worry – I got it covered." He sighs, and shakes his head. The thought of sending someone to their certain death is clearly weighing heavily on him. In that one moment, he is showing more compassion than any of my superior officers ever showed the men and women who fell at Torfan. Something stirs within me. And then Harkin turns back towards us.

"It's all good. He wants to meet you in front of the Orbital Lounge, in the Zakera Ward. Middle of the day." He looked a little bit hesitant. "So…if our business is done, I think I'll be going?"

Garrus grabbed him and pulled him in close.

"No. I don't think so. You're a criminal now, Harkin."

To his credit, the human does not flinch.

"So what, you're just going to shoot me? That's not your style, Garrus." He whispered harshly. Garrus seems to consider it for a moment, and then lets him go.

"No. I won't kill you. But I don't mind slowing you down a little."

As soon as I see him start to move, I dart in. I grab Garrus' wrist, and force the pistol upward so that the round fires harmlessly into the ceiling. He looks at me, infuriated.

"Why waste a bullet?" I asked. Garrus yanks his arm away from me, and then relents and puts the gun back in the holster. He turns to Harkin.

"I guess it's your lucky day."

Harkin smirks.

"Yeah. I guess it is. I'm hoping we can do this again, real soon."

At that moment, Sis steps forward and throws perhaps the cleanest right hook I've ever seen in my life. Harkin is out cold before he even hits the ground. We all look at her, completely flabbergasted. She looks at us, and shrugs.

"What? He insulted me, and I didn't shoot him. Fair trade, right?"

Sis might wanna lay off the "ruthless" tactics. Because whenever she does them, there's this bizarrely adorable facet to her that renders them somewhat silly.

…

As we sit in the skycar, somewhere outside the Orbital Lounge in the Zakera Ward, I can tell that Garrus is still stewing in frustration. He finally turns towards Sis.

"Harkin is a bloody menace." He said. "We shouldn't have just let him go. He deserved to be punished."

"We're not lawmen. Not officially." Sis said. "We can't just take the vigilante route whenever we feel like it."

"That's rich, coming from you." Garrus said. "You're a SPECTRE. Isnt bending the rules your second nature?"

Now Garrus has insulted all of us at least once over the course of this mission. And Sis clearly has had enough of it.

She slaps him hard across the cheek, and then when he recovers she slaps him again, a little less hard this time.

"I want you to consider something, Garrus." She said coldly. "Over the course of this mission, you have threatened, groused, insulted and been a surly jackass the entire time. And I know how rotten you feel about Sidonis. I get it. Because let me ask you something: do you think that you're the only person who's ever lost men under their command?"

I wince. I know that I could take that as a reference to my own career, but Janey has had a few operation of her own that resulted in the death of subordinates. And, if the sudden change of expression on Garrus' face is any indication, he's remembering a few moments too.

"And in the middle of it all, you've been a jerk to my brother, you've been a jerk to Tali, and you've now been a jerk to me." Sis said. "So I want you to think really hard about this. If you want to go through with it, fine. Fine, it's your decision to make. But I hope you're willing to live with it. Not now. Not in the next few years. This is the kind of thing that you live with for the rest of your life. I hope you understand that." She turned to me. "Tali and I will wait in the car. Harkin specified to Sidonis that 'he' was coming to meet him, so that means that you're going to have to pretend to be the agent."

I nod silently. Garrus has already left the skycar, and has disappeared up high into the rafters of somewhere so that he has a perfect shot of the Orbital Lounge. I take a deep breath, and I make my way through the noisy and people-crowded area to find my target.

Sidonis isn't exactly subtle. He's a Turian, and he's fidgeting like he's waiting for someone or something that is utterly important to him. A trained hitman would have him spotted in moments.

" _That's him._ " Garrus said in my TeamCom. I wonder if he's broadcasting to the entire team. " _Wave him over and keep him talking. I'll let you know when I have the shot._ "

I casually gesture for Sidonis to get up and come over to speak to me.

"Let's get this over with." He said. He's as antsy as a virgin in a strip club.

" _You're in my shot. Move over to the side._ "

I want to step over. I know what it feels like to be betrayed. I've been betrayed by the Alliance, betrayed by faulty intelligence, betrayed by whatever deity there is in this galaxy, and in the end betrayed by myself and my own demons. I see this quivering wreck in front of me, and my first instinct is to just step aside and let Garrus end it all.

But then I find myself talking.

"You seem nervous." I said to Sidonis. "You ok? You want a light? I got one for you." I reach into my pocket and pull out a cigar. I cut it, and start puffing away.

" _John, what are you doing? Just get out of the way!_ "

"What? No, sorry. I don't smoke." Sidonis said. I shrug.

"Oh well, more for me." I said with a smirk. But then my smile fades. "But then again, I would still listen to me. I'm here to help you, Sidonis."

He looks like he's seen a ghost.

"Don't _ever_ say that name out loud!" He whispered harshly. I shrug.

"Well, Garrus told me that was your name. So I figured I'd call you that. I mean, I'm a lot friendlier than he is. He wants you dead. I'm hoping…it doesn't have to come to that."

"Garrus…? Is this some kind of joke?" He asked. His eyes are wide and I think he's sweating.

" _Damn it, John, if he moves_ _ **I'm taking the shot!**_ "

That last bit was so loud that Sidonis could hear it. He pales.

"You're…you're not kidding, are you?" He asked. Screw this. I'm not sticking around here to find out. Tell Garrus had I my own problems-"

As he turns around, I grab him forcefully by the wrist and pull him in close.

"Get off me!" He hissed.

"Don't. Move." I snarl. He's silent for a second, so I speak. "Listen and listen good. Garrus is behind me. He has a shot lined up. The only thing that's between you and an unmarked grave is my skull. So _stay put._ "

"… _Fuck._ " Sidonis realizes exactly what's going on now. He's rooted to the ground. His shoulders hang. "Look…I…I didn't want to do it. I didn't…I didn't have a choice."

" _Everyone has a choice._ " Garrus said in my ear. The voices are cold as ice.

"They got to me! Said they'd kill me if I didn't help. What was I supposed to do?" He asked.

" _He's a damned coward, John. Let me take the shot._ "

I don't disagree. Sidonis is a coward. Either that or he was clumsy enough that the mercenaries were able to get to him in the first place. And from there, he probably wasn't that much different than your average person: a little torture and the fear of death is enough to get just about anyone to crack.

"That's it?" I asked. "You were just trying to save yourself?" As Sidonis starts walking, I follow him. Garrus doesn't have a clear shot, if his snarls of frustration in my ear are any indication.

"I know that." Sidonis said. His voice has lost any sort of life to it. "I know what I did. I know that they're all dead because of me. And I have to live with that." He stares at me. "I wake up every night…sick…and sweating. Each of their faces staring at me…and accusing me."

I feel myself go rigid. There is a ringing in my ears.

"I'm already a dead man. I don't sleep. Food has no taste." Sidonis went on. "Some nights I just want it all to be over."

" _Just give me the cha-_ "

Garrus' words are drowned out by the ringing in my ears. I close my eyes in an effort to calm it, and when I open them again I nearly recoil in fright. Sidonis is gone. There is still someone leaning on the railing again, for sure, but it isn't the Turian in front of me. The person is clean-cut, shaved, and free of scars and worries and anything. He has no regrets, and he has no idea what horrors are about to befall him. And then he turns to look me in the eye.

I'm no longer looking at Sidonis. I'm looking at myself.

The ringing stops. I blink, and once again Sidonis is in front of me.

"Let it go, Garrus." I finally said. "He's already paying for his crime."

" _He hasn't paid enough."_ Garrus snarled. " _He still has his life._ "

At this, I feel a boiling rage inside me. And yet when I speak I keep my cool.

"Does he really?" I asked. "Look at him, Garrus. He's not alive. There's nothing left to kill."

" _My men…they deserved better._ " Garrus said. At this, I slowly turn around and stare in the direction that I think Garrus is at. It doesn't take me long to find him.

"And so did mine on Torfan." I said. "Every day I am haunted by them, by the failures I made and the mistakes that cost lives. I wake up with that pain and fear and misery and regret every day of my life. And I can't change that." I scowl. "So go ahead. Pull the trigger." I said. "But I want you to look me in the eyes as you do it. Because killing Sidonis would be no different than killing me, at this point."

There is a silence that lasts an eternity. And then, Garrus speaks.

" _Just…go. Tell him to go…_ "

I turn back towards Sidonis.

"He's letting you walk." I said. "Don't waste this chance."

He doesn't really seem thrilled to be given a new lease on life. Perhaps a part of him wanted Garrus to pull the trigger. But now Garrus is letting him leave. Letting him live. So Sidonis nods slowly.

"Thank you. For talking to him." He said. "I'll…try to make it up to Garrus. I'll try to make it up to you…sir." He said.

With that, he slowly walks away, and I watch him disappear into the crowd.

…

I find Garrus and the others standing by the skycar, already in mid-conversation. Tali has pulled Garrus into a hug, which clearly surprised the Turian. But he isn't completely unreceptive. Sis has a sad and yet relieved smile on her face. I can hear Garrus speaking.

"All my life I've been able to see the world in black and white. That's easier." He said. "But grey…I don't know what to do with grey."

He turns towards me.

"John, I…I don't want to talk about this right now. I don't think I'm ready. But that was…brave of you to stand up for Sidonis. I guess it gave me time to realize that I couldn't take the shot." He said. "I…can we get going? I'd…like to get away from this place. And at the very least, I think I should buy the three of you a drink. As a beginning of an apology for being such an ass throughout this entire event."

"I think the Presidium sounds like a wonderful place." Sis said with a smirk. "I'm gonna check in with Admiral Anderson while we're there. So it kills two birds with one stone."

"Oh dear. Presidium bars? I doubt my bank account can take much of that…" Garrus muttered. "But I suppose it's the least I can do."

…

We're sitting at a table out on the veranda of this upscale place right underneath the Presidium Tower where the Council holds its meetings. It's right by the garden where I'd been waiting for Sis to finish her last conversation with Anderson. This time, however, it's different. Sis and I are sitting at a table outside, while Tali has dragged Garrus off to try out this ridiculous dextro-amino cocktail that she's always wanted. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that she has a soft spot for the Turian.

"I'm proud of you, John." Sis said.

"Oh?" I asked. "And why is that?"

"I guess…the thought of Garrus wanting to go down that road made me so upset that I could barely think of what to do whenever he said how much he needed to kill Sidonis." She said. "And…and part of me wasn't sure what to do, because other than Tali or…Liara…Garrus is my closest friend in the galaxy. I wouldn't be where I am now without him. The sight of him so angry, so…unconcerned with the fallout of doing that…it bothered me. And I wish I'd done better at stopping him." She turned and looked at me. "You stepping in like that, though…that reminded me of the way things used to be."

"Like picking you up whenever a date went wrong?" I asked. Sis was in mid-sip as she heard me, and her response was to snort into her drink, beer going up her nose.

"Oh, goddamn it." She said. "Why bring that up, John? I was a kid!"

"And really stupid." I said, a smirk on my face. "I still can't believe I had to get you out of a tree. And bring you a change of clothes. It's a miracle that no cop saw you and slapped you with a public indecency charge. Can you imagine the great Commander Shepard, naked as the day she was born?"

Sis is flat-out laughing now. It's a comforting sound. It's been too long since she and I have been able to sit like this. Sit like this and remember how things used to be. She gets a buzz on her omnitool, and then rolls her eyes.

"Oh goodie. Looks like Admiral Anderson is in a meeting right now. He's sending someone to come get us for him, and then we're going to go meet up with him."

"Does he usually send someone to do his own work?" I asked. Sis frowned, and shook her head.

"No. He's pretty hands-on. Which makes me wonder if things are alrigh-"

 _ **JANE ELIZABETH AND JONATHAN MERCER SHEPARD!**_ "

…Oh shit.

Sis and I both go rigid at the sound. Like a Pavlovian response, that tone of voice is the only thing that can put the fear of god into either of us, and reduce us to the mere children that we are. And, to our horror, there is only one person in the entire galaxy that we fear so much when that person is angry. There is only one person that that could be.

 _Mom._

A/N: Ohhhhhh, they're gonna get it.


	30. A Shepard Family Reunion

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

They say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I suppose there might be some truth to that statement, as cryptically sexist as it might sound. But I think that there is a corollary to that statement. Perhaps hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…but even that pales in comparison to an angry mother.

At least, I think Mom's angry. Why else would she be trying to crush the two of us in a vice grip of a hug?

Then come the slaps.

Sis gets the first one.

"Ow!" She said, rubbing her cheek.

" _That's_ for not calling me!" Mom said. "When my daughter resurfaces after two whole years, the least she can do is notify me as soon as possible that she's back!"

"Mom…" Sis said, speaking slowly as if she can't believe that she is saying this. "I was _dead._ "

"Yeah, but what have you been doing the last couple of months? Running around, if David's information has any truth to it! And what _haven't_ you been doing? Telling your mother that you're alive!"

Sis has no response, except for a sheepish grin and a scratching of the back of her head.

And then it's my turn. I don't even get the luxury of an open-palmed slap. I get a straight backhand.

"And _you…_ " Mom said. She starts, but then she stops to compose herself. Whatever totally deserved rant she had prepared for me seems to die in her throat as she stares at me. She looks at me, and then she looks at Sis. And then the tears start flowing down her cheek, and she speaks in a little voice. "Oh God it's a miracle. _My children are alive._ "

This time we return the hug. There's a lot of tears and sobbing for all parties, that's for sure. And if there were any rubberneckers from a few minutes earlier, they gently give us our space.

Good thing too. Jane and I are our Mother's children in more ways than one. One of those traits, of course, being the ability to beat people up. It might have been one of the reasons Dad fell for her in the first place.

…

The waitress takes our order, and disappears somewhere back inside the café. At the sight of our little family reunion, the manager had come forth and said that there was a table in the corner with our name on it, and anything that we wanted was on the house. Which was nice of him, to be honest. But it was also a curse.

Because now Mom had us exactly where she wanted us. And there was a combined gap of nine fucking years that she was about to catch up on.

"So…what are you two doing these days?" Mom asked, taking a sip from her coffee. Jane and I look at each other awkwardly, and then back at her.

"Erm…freelancing." Sis said. "SPECTRE things. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"You'll do no such thing, young lady." Mom said, taking another sip. I take a moment to study her. There's a little bit more grey peppered into her dark brown hair, and perhaps a slight wrinkle in her cheeks, but Hannah Shepard looks every bit the commanding presence that she was growing up. Mom was definitely the more professional of our parents: every single captain that she'd been assigned to had promoted her from "regular" Lieutenant to XO, usually within the first month or so of her arrival. She was reliable, trustworthy, and apparently developed the nickname "Granite" because of how stone-solid she was as a hand on the ship. And it was clear that she'd taken better care of herself over the last decade than I had.

"…Fine." Sis said, crossing her arms like a pouty teenager. She looked at Mom's clothes, and smiled. "Still kicking ass, Lieutenant?" She asked with a wink. I think that Sis was getting a rise out of the fact that, as a Lieutenant-Commander as well as a SPECTRE, she now officially out-ranked Mom.

Mom looked at her and smirked.

"That's _Commander_ to you, missy."

Jane's face fell flat, and I wish I had a camera.

"When did you get the promotion?" I asked.

"Shortly after her…funeral." Mom said. She paused. "God, that's such a bizarre thing to say and even think about. You were _dead_ , honey, and now I'm talking to you again. It's a miracle. I just…wow." She shook her head in muted disbelief. "But it was really a REMF promotion. After the PR disaster of Commander Shepard getting killed in such a routine mission, they gave me the posting of some back post deep in Alliance territory so that I was 'rewarded.' Or something like that." She shook her head. "It's a nice job and the pay is far more than I ever made in the past, but it's impossibly boring. Put me on the front lines, and I'd like to burn the mongrels that killed my daughter."

See? Sis and I got it from somewhere. She turned to me.

"Honey…oh God I don't even have the words. I just…you're back. My son. I always knew you'd come back and-" She cuts herself off. The very thought is making her cry. And then she sniffles, and then frowns. "What were you _thinking?_ "

"I wasn't." I admitted. "I was just trying to get away."

"Dr. Sider was going to help you!"

I sneered.

"Right. That quack hasn't even fired a rifle in his life. How the fuck would he know what I went through?"

"You watch your language, young man."

And just like that, I feel myself shrinking. I forgot who I was talking to, for a moment. And I'm lucky that I was able to escape with my life.

"John's getting help." Sis said. "There are trained specialists on my ship. Not all of them human though."

"So?" Mom asked. She turned to me. "Are they…helping?"

I stop and think about it. I shrug.

"I wouldn't say I'm 'better,' Mom. But I'm not feeling worse. And, uh, there were a lot of bad days in the past." I said. Mom looks heartbroken.

"Honey. Honey, oh I wish you'd told us. I wish you'd told us, we would have been there for you."

"I know." I said, scratching my beard. "But…I dunno. I can't explain it."

"You don't have to." Mom said. "We can't change the last seven years, John. But I've had an awful lot of happen to me in the last couple of years. Here I am, a few months ago, thinking that I am the only one in my family left alive. And then I get a call from David, and he tells me that both of my children are alive and well…and that they're doing something dangerous. Because _of course_ you two are." She rolled her eyes. "I didn't teach you well enough, it seems."

"Or perhaps you taught us too well." Sis offered.

"But either way…I can't change the past. What's done is done. I've come to count my blessing where I have them, and regardless of the circumstances that created it, here I am sitting in a café in the Citadel having a meal with my two children for the first time in years. One of whom had disappeared, and the other literally back from the dead. My blessings outweigh my regrets, children." She said.

The waiter brings us our food. Mom looks at it, and smiles.

"You know, this kind of reminds me of all of those times where we would find some place, no matter how second-rate, and stop when your father and I had shore leave because we were all so sick of the rations on ships." She said. "It got a bit difficult to coordinate, especially when the two of you were growing up, and Jane was going through N7 training, but I always liked that." She smiled again. "And now here we are."

I feel a warmth in my heart, and I can see from the look on Sis' face that she feels the same as well. She takes a large gulp of her cola. Mom turns to her.

"So, when can I expect little blue grandbabies?"

I am _so_ glad that I wasn't drinking either, because it allows me the joy of watching Sis cough violently on her drink without suffering the same fate. I'm biting my lip so hard to stop from laughing that I think I'm gonna start bleeding. And from the look on Mom's face, it is as clear as day that she was waiting for the exact moment that the drink was halfway down Sis' throat before she asked that question. Mom can delightfully devious.

" _Mom!_ " Sis hisses, her face a deep shade of crimson. Mom smiles.

"Honey, I've got a combined _nine years_ of missing out on being an embarrassing parent, and I fully intend to make up for every last one of them." She said. Sis coughs out the remaining soda that was in her lungs, and she clears her throat.

"Uh, well, we're talking again and, um…"

Oh this is brilliant. The mighty and profound Commander Shepard has been reduced to little Janey, the awkward kid that had trouble with relationships and _especially_ when grilled on it by her parents. I feel like we're back in high school all over again. Mom smiles.

"Good. I know I only got to meet her in passing during the award ceremony, but I could tell that you had your eye on her, and that she had her eye on you. You must be a heckuva person to impress an Asari, honey, considering how long they live in comparison to us."

And then she turns towards me.

 _Fuck._

"And what about you, Johnny?" She asked. "Any women in your life? Any little Shepards running around?" She then shrugs. "Or men? If I can be open-minded about your sister, I can extend the same courtesy to you."

Sis starts snickering, and I just sit there praying for this to be over quickly.

"Uh…no." I said.

"That you know of?"

 _God,_ she is merciless.

"No." I repeat adamantly. "Dad taught me not to mess around and I didn't and don't mess around."

Well…that might not be entirely true.

"Really?" Mom asked, a tinge of disappointment in her tone. "What about that one girl? The one that was in your hand-to-hand classes that you said came up to you one night? Williams? I think I saw her at the funeral, dear." She said, looking at Sis. I can feel the temperature drop a few degrees as Sis looks sullen, so I move to cut the debate.

"Nothing came of that, mom."

"So there's no one on your radar?" Mom asked.

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"That's not what I said."

Mom's eyebrows rise up, and I see out of the corner of my eye that Sis has perked up too. And I try not to make eye contact, because I know that there is Satan flashing through her shit-eating grin.

"Really, John?" Sis asked. "Is it someone on the Normandy?"

"None of your business, Jane." I said. Now it's _my_ turn to feel embarrassed.

"I'm the captain. If people on my ship start rutting, I should know so that I can take steps to prevent it from becoming scuttlebutt."

I smack my forehead.

"God _damn_ it, Jane."

And then it happens.

Sis stares at me, a quizzical expression on her face as she studies every movement I make. Every time I try to avoid her gaze, she tries to meet my eyes. Mom doesn't say anything, instead silently waiting for the show. My chest heaves, as my body has figured it out even if my brain hasn't processed it yet. Sis stares at me a little bit longer.

And then, as if a timer goes off in her mind, it hits her.

" _OH SHIT!_ " She recoiled back in her chair in complete shock. "Oh, _shi-ahahahaHAHhahaha!_ No! No fucking way!"

She practically collapses on me, laughing so hard that I think she's gonna pass out. I'm not gonna dignify her with a response. I'm not gonna let her get to me. Too bad that that isn't stopping her.

"You…oh god, it's _Miranda_ isn't it?" She looks at me, and I make the mistake of making eye contact. She collapses in hysterics once again. "Oh god _it is!_ You and-oh god I'm gonna pass out…Ahhhh hahahaha! _You've got a crush on Miraaaaaanda! You've got a crush on Miraaaaaaanda!_ "

I don't believe in god, but I think I want him to kill me now.

Finally, Sis leans back in her chair, panting as she recovers her breath. She looks over at me, and her shoulders are still shaking a little bit as she silently continues laughing. I can see the wheels spinning as she thinks of the blackmail material she now holds on me, and I think about whether I should start threatening to air her dirty laundry as payback.

Mom stares at the two of us, a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh god, it's like a walk down memory lane." She said. "The two of you…together…bickering like the little kids that you are deep in your hearts…it's enough to bring a tear to my eye."

"Glad to see that our relationship problems are material for you, Mom." I said. She chuckles.

"Well, I can't make fun of your work, because I don't know what you're doing."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Sis asked. "I mean, you've never been worried before, but I know that the Council hasn't been saying nice things about me."

"No, they haven't." Mom said. "David keeps me in the loop whenever he can. You know, for someone who's supposed to be the representative of humanity, I doubt that he should be leaking a little bit of information to little old me, of all people."

"I doubt ambassador Udina would be happy." Sis said. Mom laughed out loud.

"Oh, god. _Donnel._ I had the misfortune of meeting him in the days after the funeral. He didn't even have the balls to say anything to me about it specifically, just talking about how the galaxy would remember my daughter and he was so _fake-sounding_ that I just told him that I wasn't interested in his platitudes. I bet you I know more about the ins and outs of the Council than even he does."

"Why?" I asked. Mom looked at me.

"David hates Udina. He can't punch him in the face anymore, but he can absolutely leak information to me over Donnel because A.) I won't leak it because it doesn't concern me and I'm not about to build a career on outmaneuvering people, and B.) because he takes what opportunities to screw with that little politician wherever and whenever he can."

Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if Mom was a politician. It would have been something else, that's for sure.

"But I'm getting off track." Mom said. "I know that the Council doesn't believe you about these 'Reapers…' but if there's one thing that I didn't raise you to be it was a liar. And as terrifying as it sounds and is to think about, I believe you." She said. She lowered her voice. "Most people don't like to talk about it but…is it true? Are the human colonies getting abducted by the Collectors?"

"Yes." Sis said. Mom nods gravely.

"And do you think that the Reapers have something to do with it?"

"Assuredly." I said. Mom sighs, and leans back in her chair.

"Then I guess I _don't_ want to know what you're doing. Because the two of you are fighting a war when everyone is convinced that there is peace. But the thought of you in this together…I feel a sort of relief, because the two of you together could save the galaxy if you put your minds to it." But then she leaned in closer. "But don't you _dare_ die."

"Die?" Sis asked. "Mom, that's the _last_ thing I plan to do."

Mom just shakes her head, but I'm laughing. And then she's laughing.

And for the first time in years, I feel like things are the way they're supposed to be.

…

I'm sitting in the mess hall of the Normandy, as we glide somewhere out into space. We'd said our goodbyes with Mom a few hours ago. She'd held us tight, and had insisted that we try to write and call her at least a little bit more frequently than we had in the past couple of years. Leave it to Mom to deploy that snarky sense of humor that runs in the family. She gave me grief over my iDroid ("Oh for god's sake, John, _get an omnitool!_ And cut your hair!"), but when it was time to leave I didn't really want to. I hugged her and held her tight, but then I had to let go. But it was the words that she left me with that were still sticking in my head.

" _Stick to her, just like you always did, Johnny._ _I love you._ "

I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to hear your own mother say that she loves you.

It was pretty dark, and very late. Most everyone had turned in for the night. Even Sis had gone to bed, after I'd told her that falling asleep into your coffee is a sign that even caffeine isn't going to keep you awake. She'd grumbled about it, but then her complaints were stifled by the biggest yawn in the entire galaxy and she agreed with me. So that left me alone in the mess hall, with just a cigar and a bottle of Jack.

Well, I wasn't alone for long.

"Hey."

I look up. I smirk, despite myself.

"Didn't think that you ever left the basement, Jack." I said. She frowned.

"Fuck off. For all you know, I'm here all the goddamn time. I'm just never around when you're around." She holds the glare, but then starts to crack up. "I'm just fucking with you. I hate people. So I don't usually come up here."

"You hate people?" I asked. "Color me shocked."

"You're shocked? Shame. I had so fuckin' high hopes for us, John." She said. She looks at the bottle of Jack. "You mind?"

"Go for it." I said. Jack takes the bottle, and takes a swig completely straight. Even I have to dilute that shit with something. Coke, usually. She finishes drinking, and then sighs contentedly.

"Got a question for you." She said.

"Go on." I said.

"Your sister. Why does she help out all of us?" Jack asked. "She just using us? We're gonna die for her. Why feel the need to make it personal and shit?" She looked off to the side. "I think it would have been better if she never came down there to talk to me. Other than you, she's the only one that does that. It's fucking weird."

I smirk a bit.

"What's so goddamn funny?" She asked, glaring. I shrug.

"Jack…Janey asks these sorts of things because she _cares_ about people. As scary a concept as that is."

"But there's gotta be a fuckin' angle that she's working. What does she want from us?" She asked.

I shrug.

"I think she wants us to survive the mission. And that's it. She doesn't expect us to do anything for her afterwards." I said. Jack stared at me, as if in disbelief.

"She does this shit…just to do it?"

"Yeah." I said. "Why else would she waste her time with me?" I asked. Jack chuckled a bit, but then she got a bit unsure.

"Do you think that she'd be able to do something for me?" She asked. "No strings attached, no matter how fucked up it might be?"

"I don't know if Sis would randomly murder someone for you." I admitted. "But I guarantee you that she'd listen to what you had to say."

Jack stares quietly off to the side. And then she seems to have a revelation.

"Fuck it. I'm gonna ask her. Where is she?"

"She's asleep, I think." I said.

"Don't give a shit. Gonna bang on her door until she answers it. Or I'll blow it open with my biotics. Don't care. Later, John." She said. She gets up from her chair, and then starts to walk towards the elevator. I sit there, blinking, as I try to think about what the hell just happened. But then I just shrug and laugh.

"Whenever she's around, I always prepare to hear about someone or something getting wrecked."

Someone needs to put a bell on Miranda. It is inhuman how easily she can sneak up on people. She's holding a cup of coffee in one hand, and a holopad in the other. Looks like she brought work with her. I look up at her.

"Who, Jack?" I asked. "Yeah, I can see it. I think the trick is to realize that you really can't order her to do anything. You just sorta point her in a general direction."

"You're equating her to a living weapon?" Miranda asked. I nod.

"Like I said. Can't be ordered. Can only be aimed."

Miranda smiles, but it's rather thin. Probably more about my delivery than about the topic. She's really not a fan of Jack. And Jack is not a fan of her. That much is _abundantly_ clear. She sits down across from me at the table, and starts quietly typing at her holopad.

"What work are you doing now?" I asked. "Spying on my emails?"

"No, I did that a few hours ago." Miranda said. She doesn't even look up. And for a brief and terrifying moment, I wonder if she's kidding. It's only when she fails at holding back her smile that I realize that she was joking.

As far as I know.

"Hah. Hah." I said.

"I'm just accounting expenditures." Miranda said. "We installed the Thanix cannon, and the armor improvements are coming in next week to the Citadel. And then the shielding improvements that Miss vas Zorah brought in are getting shipped to Illium."

"Why not send them both to the same place?"

"Because then people might better track our movements." Miranda said. "Cerberus isn't…exactly on the nice list for most Alliance and customs-based lists. If they saw this sort of thing coming in bulk to the same space port, they'd start asking questions. And we don't have time to answer questions, when there are Collectors and Reapers to stop." She shudders. "I don't like the fact that the Collectors have been so quiet of late."

"Yeah, me neither. Whatever it is that they're planning, they're clearly not expecting us to keep stopping them." I said. I took a sip of what was left of the drink, though considering that Jack had gulped down most of it there wasn't much left. Miranda looked up at me and smiled slightly.

"So I heard that the two of you ran into a little bit of familial trouble?" There's an amused twinkle in her eyes as she speaks. I try not to make eye contact.

"Eh, when you've blown off your mother for either two or seven years, respectively, then you're deserving of an ass-kicking."

"And how is she doing?" Miranda asked. "I heard that she got a promotion or two in the months after the Commander's death."

"Yeah." I said. "And she isn't exactly the happiest about it. She's stuck in a REMF position and she wants to be on the frontline."

Miranda looked confused.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what that means. Not everyone is Alliance, you know."

I look at Miranda, and raise an eyebrow.

"It stands for Rear Echelon MotherFucker."

Miranda blinks once in shock, and I delight in the expression on her face. She clears her throat.

"That's rather…blunt."

"If anything, Dad was the black sheep of the family because he never cursed." I said. "Certainly not to the level of Mom. He liked to joke that he was the hippie of the family. Mom would just say that he was the 'sissy' of the family."

Miranda chuckled a bit.

"They were happy together?" Miranda asked.

"Immensely." I said. I start to say something else, and then the words die in my throat. "We all miss him. I wonder what he'd think of us."

Miranda reaches across the table, and gives my hand a small, reassuring squeeze.

"I think he'd be proud of you, John."

Would he?

A/N: The whole point of this chapter was to give you readers a break from dark after dark chapter, and to give Hannah Shepard some much-deserving page time because she's awesome. And I hope that this conversation came off the way I intended it: despite the multitude of medals and accolades amongst the three of them, the Shepards are a family deep down. And families are all about their little moments of levity and teasing.

Oh, and I might have been watching 22 Jump Street last night.

However, all good things come to an end. And other than the Morinth mission, this loyalty mission that is coming up has been the one that I have been most looking forward to writing for the entire story. It's gonna be…rough. It's gonna be tough, and it's gonna be dark at times. You have to wonder how John will be able to power through the pain. But I think he might have a shot.

After all…rage is a hell of an anesthetic.


	31. The Price of Revenge

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

Sometimes I really have to wonder about my sister. Don't get me wrong, I know that there's nothing _wrong_ with her. She's smart and for the most part completely in control of herself when it comes to handling others. If anything, she's exactly the kind of person that you'd put in charge of, well, just about anything. If idealistic mindsets of how government or military strategy should work meant anything, then my sister would be in charge of everything. She's got it all.

But sometimes…I wonder.

This is one of those cases. I'm in the mess hall, sitting at a table with Tali and Garrus. Sis is over at the kitchen unit, prepping something that smells pretty good. She'd pressed a button on her omnitool, looking for some inspirational music. Why she needed inspirational music is anyone's guess, but to each their own. And, as I should have expected, Sis found some oldies radio station, playing songs that are _literally_ two centuries old. Right down to the slightly grainy sound and feel. But _that's_ not what makes me wonder about my sister.

What's making me wonder is the fact that she's _dancing_ to it.

 _Got a doll baby, I love her so._

 _Nothing else like her anywhere you go._

 _Man, she's anything but calm._

 _A regular pint-sized atom bomb!_

 _Atomb Bomb Baby, little Atomb Bomb._

 _I want her in my wigwam!_

 _She's just the way I want her to be,_

 _A million times hotter than T.N.T!_

I'm no expert on the dance floor myself, but god damn it my sister dances like a _dork._ Does she not realize that people can see her?

I look at her, and I become aware of a chuckling noise. It's Garrus, who's trying not to break out into laughter. Tali looks over at him, and just shakes her head.

"Garrus, you're hardly one to laugh at someone for their quirks. I seem to recall you spend the majority of your time calibrating the Normandy's guns. That, or fight off Yeoman Chambers' advances with a stick."

At this, Garrus raised an eyebrow.

"'Fighting off advances?' I wasn't aware that the good doctor was making any. How could one love a face as ugly as this?" He asked.

Oh god, he's going for the pseudo-pitying routine. Tali, bless her soul, isn't biting.

"Garrus, how could she tell which side took the rocket?"

Damn, this Quarian is cold as _ice._

Garrus gives a shocked expression, but then chuckles again. Meanwhile, Sis is currently dancing the night…er, day away. She is totally unaware of any of us. Or, perhaps she is aware, and she just doesn't give a fuck. Garrus looks over at me.

"Did Shepard ever do things like this at home? Before she became the big badass that we all know and love?" He asked. I find myself smiling.

"I wouldn't say that Sis _became_ a badass. She just sorta lucked into being one." I said. "After all, if things had gone as planned, she'd have been watching holovids in her pajamas and eating ice cream all day on Elysium."

"Did she _seriously_ defend the colony in her underwear?" Tali asked.

There is a shocked silence, and Garrus and I look at her. I can practically feel the blush now radiating off of Tali's face.

"I…I mean, isn't that what you humans wear to sleep?"

Garrus is the first to laugh. I just chuckle, and then clap Tali appreciatively on the shoulder.

"They're called pajamas, Tali. Think a more comfortable version of your daily suit, and best of all you can wear whatever you want and no one will judge you." I said. Garrus is too busy chuckling at his friend's faux paux to say anything else. I think Tali is appreciative of my little gesture.

"Thanks for not being a complete _bosh'tet_ , John." She said. And then she goes rigid. "Um…It's okay for me to call you John, right?"

"I've been called far worse." I said with a smile. "John is totally fine."

"Oh, ok. Good!" Tali said.

The music dies down, right as Miranda comes down to the mess hall.

"Oh look, a physical manifestation of fun leaving the room…" Garrus muttered.

Miranda looks over at Sis, who has stopped dancing…as much, and raised an eyebrow. But then she grabbed her coffee and made her way over to where we were sitting. She sat next to me, I noticed, instead of next to Garrus or Tali.

"Good morning, Mr. Vakarian. Miss vas Zorah."

"It's…Tali Zorah."

Miranda looked up over her datapad towards Tali.

"I'm sorry?"

"My name. It goes first name, last name, and then 'vas ship name.' So my name is Tali Zorah vas Neema."

"Oh." Miranda said, a muted look of realization crossing her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I hope I didn't offend you, miss vas Neema."

"You're fine. Tali's okay." Tali said. From her tone, it's clear that Miranda must have botched it again ever so slightly. I glance over at Miranda, and raise an eyebrow. She's wrapped up in something, but it doesn't look like she's tracking expenditures or anything relevant to the mission at hand. And then I see one of the folder names that are opened.

 _Alliance Discharge Records._

My blood runs cold, and I look away.

…

"Shepard!"

The outburst startles all of us. We look over at the source, and see a profoundly grumpy-looking Zaeed stomping over towards Sis. From the look on his face, he looks like he's been force-fed a ripe lemon. He gets about two paces in front of her, and Sis is still coming off the high of having fun dancing to herself.

"What's wrong, Zaeed?"

"We need to talk." He said. "I'm calling in the clause in my contract."

"Clause?" Sis asked, now thoroughly confused. But sitting next to me, I see Miranda take a deep breath.

"Shit." She muttered.

"Well, what's the clause?" Sis asked. "Do you need some help with something? And can it wait?"

"No, it bloody well can't wait!" Zaeed growled. He turned to Miranda. "Oy, Lawson! Isnt it explicitly stated that in the middle of my contract is a guarantee to help me with this little…personal squabble?"

Miranda sighs with a look that implies she'd rather be anywhere else in the galaxy than right in that space.

"It does." She finally said.

"Good! Just making sure." Zaeed said. "Help me with this little issue, Shepard. And I promise that I ain't gonna question orders for the rest of this goddamn mission."

Truthfully, Zaeed hadn't really questioned _any_ of the orders, save for a little bit of snarking here and there. But then again, to be given that sort of offer is too tempting even for Sis. And from the look on her face, I can tell that she's already decided it.

…

And that's how we find ourselves in the Kodiak, coming out of lower atmosphere above some tropical planet called Zorya. Zaeed wanted a near-minimum of personnel with him: Sis, myself, and Grunt. Why he wanted Grunt of all people is a mystery to me, but the way the Krogan is capable of carrying at least one shotgun in each hand might have something to do with it.

There's something about this mission that's eating at me. We're headed to this refinery where the Blue Suns are holding hostages. And there's apparently a VIP there that we need to kill, someone that is critical to the structure of the Blue Suns in general. But that's all that Zaeed is telling us. And I can just feel it in my bones that he is holding back information.

I feel the anxiety start to affect me, and I reach into my pocket and pull out a cigar. Anything to calm my nerves down. This is beginning to start off as a big case of déjà vu.

Until the doors open. And when I see what we're looking at, my nerves slowly seem to melt away.

A jungle. It's nothing but a planet's worth of a jungle. And I _lived_ for fighting in the jungle.

"Tapping into Blue Suns communications. Stay tight and look out for ambushes." Zaeed said. Again, the ease with which he cut into the communications is a cause for concern. What isn't he telling us?

Sis is letting him take point, but there is a clear and present look of hesitance in her posture. She doesn't trust this any more than I do. Grunt…well, Grunt is just itching for a fight. That is pretty obvious, I think.

We make our way through the jungle, and then a voice cuts through our TeamCom.

" _Squad Bravo, a shuttle landed near your location. Go check it out."_

"Vido…" Zaeed muttered. The ondercurrent of rage and hate is ever present in his voice.

"Know him?" Sis asked.

"Yeah…you could say that." Zaeed growled. "He's the target. In charge of this entire goddamn operation. Which means he'll be sending people out to gut us. Stay sharp."

The next minute or so of traversing the jungle is quiet, save for the chatter of the wildlife and a couple of lemur-like creatures that run alongside our feet as we make our way to a clearing. There are a couple of bodies in front of us. Their weapons have been stripped, and only the basic rudiments of their armor remains. From the look of it – as well as the smell of it – they've been out here for a while. Sis makes a face, and Grunt growls in annoyance. Zaeed examine the bodies, and shakes his head.

"Shot in the back and left to rot. That's definitely Vido's style." He muttered.

We kept moving down a pathway. Somewhere in the distance was this refinery that Zaeed was so convinced was important. It was just a single refinery, in the middle of nowhere. Why the fuck did we need to do this? What is the tactical necessity of it all?

 _Why the fuck are they sending us to Torfan?_

I shudder violently, shaking the flashback out of my mind. I look up in time to hear Vido's voice once again crackle over TeamCom.

" _Command to Bravo. Take a position. Likely these intruders are not runaways._ "

"The anticipation is driving me crazy." Grunt growled. "Where are they?"

We rounded the corner, and he had his answer.

It was a checkpoint of some sort, no doubt in between us and the refinery's core. And there were definitely Blue Suns defending it. Thankfully, they weren't completely expecting us. That meant that we had time to fire off a burst of suppressing fire before getting to cover. And then came the hail of bullets from the Blue Suns and their Mechs.

I fired a bullet that caught one of the pyro soldiers in his gas tank. There was a hissing sound as it started to leak. He barely had enough time to let out a cry of panic before an errant shot in his general vicinity ignited the gas, causing a massive explosion that blew him up and took out a couple of the Mechs around him. Sis was positively surgical with that Vindicator rifle of hers, pegging one guy in the head with one burst and then blowing off the arms of a LOKI Mech before popping it in the "face" with another shot. Zaeed was providing ample suppressing fire, which left Grunt to do his thing. And by that I mean run right into the middle of a crowd of LOKI Mechs, absorbing their fire with his shields, before knocking them all over like bowling pins.

He finished it all up with an honest to god chokeslam on one of them, shattering it into a million pieces.

And then there was silence.

There was a single Blue Suns merc, on death's door, struggling to crawl towards his weapon. Zaeed stomped over towards him, and rolled him over forcefully so that the wretch was on his face.

"Where's Vido?" Zaeed snarled. The man looked at Zaeed, and his mouth went agape.

"…Massani?" He asked.

And then he moved no more. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Zaeed _literally_ frightened that man to death. Growling something unintelligible, Zaeed stomped over to the nearby bridge control panel to summon a bridge that would take us deeper into the complex and directly into the refinery.

"Zaeed."

He didn't listen, continuing to punch commands into the console.

"Zaeed!"

At this, Zaeed turned around and looked my sister in the eye. He was clearly annoyed.

 _"This is Commander Santiago. If any of you retreat while the intruders are still alive, I'll shoot you myself! Now get the hell back out there!_ "

"Sounds like he hasn't changed a bit." Zaeed said.

"Zaeed, I want to know everything." Sis said. She was getting more annoyed by the second. "What is the deal with you and this Vido Santiago?"

"I knew he was a sadistic bastard when we started the Suns. They only got meaner after he staged his little coup twenty years ago. So yeah. You could say that we have a past."

Sis now looked like she was going to have a rage-induced aneurysm.

"You _founded_ the Blue Suns?" She hissed. "And you didn't think to tell me this?"

"You never asked. I never told." Zaeed said. "Besides, I bet Vido's done everything that he can to scrub my name from the records. We were legit goddamn PMCs back in my day. Now they're just profit-sucking contract killers."

Sis shakes her head.

"I would have preferred to know this." She said coolly. "And for the record, 20 years is a long time to hold a grudge."

"A _grudge?_ " Zaeed snarled, his face a twisted mask of rage and hate. "Vido turned my men against me. He paid six of them to restrain me while he put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger."

He seemed to be going feral before my very eyes.

"For _twenty years_ I've seen that bastard every time I closed my eyes. Every time I sighted down a target. Every time I heard a gunshot…Don't you dare call that a goddamned _grudge._ "

"You'd better cool it, Zaeed." I growled. "My sister is helping you."

"Why are you taking her goddamn side?" He snarled. "If anything, you should be _supporting_ me. I know how bad you'd want to get your hands around the throat of that little pissant Benjamin Kyle." He narrowed his eyes as I went silent. "Yeah, I've done my homework. You weren't supposed to be in charge of that shithole on Torfan. It was supposed to be Kyle's op, until he 'conveniently' went Section Eight at the start of the bombings. You didn't have to go through that shit; he should have done it. You got your entire life destroyed because of that spineless bastard. You know _exactly_ what I'm feeling."

"That's _enough._ " Sis said. She stepped in between us. And then she turned to Zaeed. "We'll go after this Vido, because of the tactical importance of destroying the leader of the Blue Suns. But that's the only reason that we're continuing this farce, Massani. I am not about to sacrifice anyone in my command over a reckless suicide mission."

"Isn't that the entire bloody reason we're fighting for you in the first place?" Zaeed sneered.

" _You watch your tone, soldier."_ Sis snarled. Zaeed was cowed into silence.

The bridge finished connecting, and we made our way across it.

" _They're at the southern access. All squads assemble at the gatehouse, now!"_

"They know we are here, Battlemaster." Grunt said.

"They're just Blue Suns, Grunt." I said. "They die just like anything else."

"Heh…heh…heh…I like the way you think, Venom."

"Bring it on, you son of a bitch!" Zaeed snarled. He practically roared it at the top of his lungs. I looked over at him, and I felt a shudder.

…

When the door to the gatehouse opened, they were waiting for us. There were Blue Suns on the left and the right, and a few on the catwalk in front of us. But it was the man in the center of the catwalk that seemed to the be the center of attention. He folded his arms across his chest, and a smug grin permeated his face.

"Zaeed Massani…" Vido said. "You finally tracked me down. And it only took you twenty years."

" _Vido…_ " Zaeed hissed. He drew his assault rifle, which prompted other Suns to get ready as well.

"Don't be stupid, Zaeed." Vido growled. "I have a whole company of bloodthirsty bastards behind me, ready to kill or be killed at my command."

As he spoke, I saw Zaeed glance over off to the side. I followed his line of sight, and my blood ran cold.

He was looking at the gas line, and the valve that controlled it.

 _No. Don't do it, you stupid son of a bitch…_

"Actually, take your shot." Vido taunted. "Give my men a reason to put you down like the mad dog you are. _Again._ "

Zaeed made his move.

He strafed to the side of the building, firing a burst of bullets that scattered the men at the catwalk. Vido ducked, and then raised an eyebrow.

"What was that?" He asked. "Gone near-sighted from old age, Zaeed?"

He didn't see the hissing puncture in the gas tank behind him.

" _Burn._ " Zaeed hissed, firing a burst that ignited the gas. It sent the Blue Suns flying, and even knocked Vido to the ground.

"You just signed your death warrant, Massani." He snarled, coming back up from the ground. He then turned tail and ran. As Grunt, Sis and I took cover behind some destroyed pipe, we saw Zaeed whacking the valve as hard as he could.

"Zaeed, what the fuck are you doing?" Sis roared.

Zaeed knocked the gas line loose, and a series of explosions rocked the room as the Blue Suns were sent flying left and right. Zaeed turned to us, and the son of a bitch had the temerity to _smile._

"Opening the gate." He said, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

"Yeah, and you almost took us with it, you crazy fuck!" I shouted. Sis was just as pissed.

"We don't sacrifice lives for the sake of the mission." She snapped. "There's always a better way."

"Like what?" Zaeed retorted. "Wandering out in the jungle for goddamn hours, looking for another way in?" He rolled his eyes. "You wanna waste time out here, go right ahead. I'm gonna go kill Vido."

I knew it was coming before anyone else did, maybe even before Sis. But either way, the backhand slap she gave him was the prettiest goddamn thing I'd seen.

"You're endangering lives and the mission just for the sake of your selfish revenge." She said.

"You really wanna do this, Shepard?" Zaeed asked. But as soon as she closed the gap so that they were both a few inches apart, I could see in his eyes that he regretted that.

"I ought to knock you the hell out." She hissed. "But thanks to you, now we probably have a whole bunch of innocent people to save."

"Let these people burn!" Zaeed snarled. "Vido dies, _whatever the cost!_ "

"Another word, Mr. Massani, and I will feed you your teeth." Sis said. "Now _fall in line._ "

He did, but clearly with a grudging sense of disappointment.

…

When we got to an outside area of the refinery, Sis started to open a door. It no doubt led to the atrium where VIdo was planning his getaway. And that's when we heard it.

"Help!"

We looked up in the direction that the voice came from. A refinery worker, no doubt, dressed in a hazmat suit. He frantically waved his hands.

"We're trapped!" He shouted. "We can't get to the gas valves to shut them off. The whole place is going to blow!" As he said that, an explosion rocked him and nearly knocked him off his feet.

"No time." Zaeed said. "Vido's probably halfway to the shuttle docks by now."

"You're willing to watch these people _die?_ " Sis asked, mortified.

"Damn right I am." Zaeed said. "We stop to help these people, and Vido…"

I stopped listening after the first four words out of his mouth. I liked Zaeed. Really, I did. But the more time we spent on Zorya, the more I saw of him. And the more I saw of him, the less I liked. And as soon as I heard him speaking, I heard the ringing in my ears. And I acted.

I stepped over next to him, and pistol-whipped him in the cheek. He barely had time to put up a defense before I forcibly pushed him against the railing, my Carnifex resting underneath his chin.

" _Doc I swear-"_

"Another word and I put a bullet up through your fucking skull!" I snarled. "I came here to kill Santiago, but I'll be _damned if I watch more innocent people die in a_ _ **fucking refinery!**_ " I'm practically screaming now. I know I am. So I lower my voice to a near-whisper. "If the next words out of your mouth aren't 'let's save these people,' then I will pull the trigger. I will rescue these workers, I will return to the Normandy, help destroy the Reapers, and _forget you ever existed._ "

Zaeed was silent. And then he spoke.

"I knew this was a mistake…" He muttered. "But if we're gonna do this, then we'd better get to it."

I release him roughly, and then shove him to the front. I turn to Sis.

"I gotta…I gotta take point, Sis. I gotta save them." Im practically babbling right now.

She nods.

"We'll save them, John. We'll save them, now let's move!"

It was hot as hell inside the gasline room. There were workers locked in a panic room, but it was clear that the heat of the fire was going to eventually overwhelm any sort of failsafe, and then open the doors when the power failed…and seal the fate of the workers. I raced over to the clear door that the workers were standing behind.

"Where are the controls?" I barked.

"Upstairs!" One of them shouted.

"I got it!" I shouted.

"John, wait!" Sis shouted. Too late. I was too far gone.

I bolted up the stairs. It seemed like each step caused another explosion. As I made my way further up the room, it only got hotter and hotter. The sweat was pouring down my face, and I started to smell something burning. Finally, I got to the doorway of the ventilation controls-

-Right as a jet of flame engulfed me.

I felt the heat sear me, and I let out a scream of pain. I managed to roll forward, and got into the control room. The fire burned. Oh god, the burning pain was overpowering. But I staggered back to my feet. I crawled over to the control panel. The ringing in my ears was deafening. I could hear her voice all over again.

 _They turned on the gas! Get the fuck out of there, Venom!_

I can't, Boss. I have to save them. I have to.

I hobble up to the computer, and I plug in the necessary data to turn on the ventilation system. I can hear the hissing of the fans as they begin to pull the backdraft out of the room, and soon the extinguishers are draping the entire building in foam and fire retardant. I shamble out of the control room, and make my way downstairs.

By the time I make it to the bottom of the stairs, I'm covered in the foam. So are the others, but I'm pretty covered. I don't think they know how bad the fire got me. I smell something burning, and it takes me a minute to realize that it's my own hair. My legs give up, but Grunt catches me.

"Venom!" He said. "I will carry you."

"No!" I growl. "No. Lemme…lemme stand."

"John, you did it." Sis said. "The workers got out. They're out."

"Great!" Zaeed said. "Now let's go so that we're just in time to watch Vido escape!"

Sis shoots him a glare, but says nothing.

"C'mon, John. Let's go." She said.

I stagger back to my feet, Grunt making sure that I am stable, and we resume the mission.

…

There are so few Blue Suns left. Only a few squads, it seems like. God the burns are killing me. I drift in and out of lucidity every so often. It gets to the point where I barely fire my weapon. We move forward, but I feel like I am in a dream. A fevered, half-lucid dream, but a dream nonetheless. I fired my gun. I think? I'm not sure. Oh god, will this mission end.

I'm practically dying on my feet as we make our way out to the helipad. And there is the gunship, flying away. I can heard Vido's taunting voice in my ear. I'm sure the others can hear it too.

" _Not this time, Zaeed, you son of a bitch. See you in another twenty years."_

Grunt and Sis fire cursory shots at the gunship, but they know that they have no chance. No one told this to Zaeed, who empties his clip.

" _AAAAAAAAA_ _ **AAAAAARRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!**_ " He bellowed. Finally, his trigger starts clicking harmlessly. He whirls around, pointing the (admittedly useless) weapon at my sister. "You!" He hissed. "You just cost me twenty years of my life!"

Something in me snapped.

He didn't see me until I was mere inches from his face. I tackled him to the ground, driving us both into the metal. The punches and strikes we throw at each other are sloppy and unfocused, but there is no shortage of unbridled rage. His rage at being denied his revenge.

My rage at him callously threatening those people and my sister in the process.

I hear a roar, and I feel myself picked up as though I am a feather. I assumed that it was Grunt, but I hear my sister screaming in my ear to calm down. Then there is an explosion, Grunt tackles us both out of the way as a metal girder falls to the ground. I hear it hit the ground, and then hear Zaeed roar in pain.

" _Agh!_ Sunava-aaagh!"

Sis has gently lowered me to the ground, where I pant and try to ignore the fact that the skin on my face feels like it's been ripped off. She gets up, and pressed a finger to her earpiece to activate her TeamCom.

"Joker, get the Kodiak to my coordinates. And get a doctor: John suffered severe burns." And then she turns to Zaeed. I'm drifting in and out of consciousness, but I can hear them talking.

"C'mon, Shepard. Get me out of this shithole." Zaeed growled, trying to wrench his leg free.

"You started this fire, Zaeed." Sis said. "It only makes sense that you'd burn in it."

"You wouldn't do that." Zaeed said. "You need me."

"Do I?" Sis asked. "You put your revenge ahead of the mission. You endangered innocent lives. And you hurt my _brother._ " I'm half delirious from pain, but even I can tell that Zaeed was cowed by the change in Sis' voice. "How can I trust that you'll be someone to rely on?"

"I'll do what I was goddamn paid to do, Shepard." Zaeed said. "Just don't expect anything more."

"That's not how this works, and you aren't in a position to be bargaining."

"Take some medigel, Venom." Grunt muttered, passing me a capsule. I inject it into my arm, and soon I feel that tingly sensation as it starts to take hold.

"You put your own goals ahead of the mission. That's not how this works. That's not how _any_ of this works." Sis said.

"I've survived this long watching my own back." Zaeed grunted. "No time to worry about anyone else."

"And what has that gotten you?" Sis asked.

"…What?" Zaeed hissed through gritted teeth. Sis folded her arms.

"What has that gotten you?" She asked. "From where I see, only looking out for number one has gotten you trapped under a metal beam, with no way to free yourself, and a rapidly encroaching fire. This might come as a shock, but you're part of a team now, Zaeed. There's no way we can do this unless we all are in this together, and we _watch each other's backs._ "

God, even while half-delirious in pain I roll my eyes. No way that she takes the high road here. Just let him burn. He deserves it.

"You…you have a point." Zaeed said. "I'm not done with Vido, but I promise I can put that behind me long enough to get this mission taken care of."

Sis nods towards Grunt, who effortlessly lifts the metal girder. Zaeed is about to get up, and then he sees Sis is pointing a gun directly at his forehead.

"If I were my brother, I would want to shoot you." She said. "And I wouldn't blame him for wanting to do that. But even you have a better nature, Zaeed Massani. It's buried under an unscrupulous exterior and _bullshit,_ but you can rise to the call." She flips the gun in her hand so that the barrel is pointing towards herself, and the handle towards Zaeed. A symbol of trust.

"I gotta talk to Lawson about my contract, all the extra bullshit I'm agreeing to." Zaeed muttered, taking the gun and standing up under his own power. "How about I start my 'redemption tour' with this-" He said, using scare quotes around "redemption tour." "Why don't I walk under my own power. Doc over there looks like he took a fucking beating thanks to me."

They all look at me, and I shake my head.

"Nah, I'm fine. Smoke if you got 'em!"

And I pass out.

…

I wake up in a comfortable bed in the med-bay of the Normandy.

"Oh, thank Christ. You took bloody long enough."

I blink once, and then twice to clear up my vision, and I see that Zaeed is sitting in one of the chairs across from my hospital bed.

"Feeling better, John?" Dr. Chakwas' voice rings out from off to the side. She's out of my field of vision, but I know she's around. "You got a couple of nasty burns from that mission. I treated them with relative ease, but if you'd waited any longer they could have been infected."

"And I'd be deprived a chance to spar and give you a receipt for this." Zaeed said, pointing to his swollen nose. "Though I suppose I bloody deserved it." He hangs his head. "All my rage against Vido, and I nearly get one of the few people I could consider a friend killed."

"Who says we're friends?" I mutter. He chuckles.

"Well, I'm a shit friend." He said. "But I brought you this." He holds up a six-pack of old Boston Lager. I don't know _where_ he got that, but clearly I've been out for a while if he found the time to buy that.

"How long was I out?" I asked.

"About a day." Dr. Chakwas said. "Nothing serious. I just had you put in anesthetic so that I could treat the burns. As far as treatments go, it was relatively painless. Though I wouldn't go crazy for a day or two. Let the skin grafts in your arms settle, won't you?"

I hold up my arm, and see some mottled areas on the flesh. Zaeed sighs.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you goddamn hated me, Doc."

"Don't hate you." I said. "Just pissed." I looked at him. "I'm no saint, but you don't fucking leave innocent people to die." And then a pang of fear washes over me. "Did they get out?"

"Yeah, and sent the Commander a goddamn fruit basket." Zaeed said. "They got out. I didn't think I'd care but…I care. For the first time." He scrunched up his face. "Goddamn, your sister does a number on people, you know that?"

"Did she fire you?" I asked.

"No. Just read me the riot act for about three hours, while the good doctor over here patched you up. And the damnedest thing is I _listened_ to her. I _do_ feel bad for getting those people in danger. And now I'm fucking pissed that I took point and didn't let her lead. We could have gutted Vido _and_ avoided that extra bullshit. I pride myself on my professionalism, and then Vido comes into the picture and everything goes to shit. I'm a bitter old fuck, but that ain't me. I promise." He looked me in the eye. "Some lot of good my revenge got me. Now I'm relegated to mess hall duty for the next two fucking weeks!"

"Not the worst punishment." I said.

"It will be if Gardner asks me again for my recipes." Zaeed muttered darkly. And then his expression softened. "I'd better tell the Commander you woke up." He pressed a button on his omnitool. "Doc…bloody hell, this is odd to say but…don't do what I did."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"When you find Major Kyle, don't bloody do what I did. Think it through. That way you'll actually be able to get the opportunity to put a bullet in his cowardly skull…without inncoents getting hurt."

"Who said I want to kill him?" I asked.

"No one. But I can see the way you tense up when someone mentions him." Zaeed said. "And I know you got Lawson digging around looking for him. It'll be a while, but no one can completely disappear. I found Vido myself with no help, and she's got the entire Cerberus apparatus at her bloody feet. She'll find him. The trick is figurin' out what to do with him."

"What indeed."

We turn to see Sis enter.

"I never signed off on you looking for Benjamin." Sis said. "And after yesterday, I'm not sure I want to fund anymore revenge odysseys." She shoots Zaeed a cold look. But then her expression softens. "But I know how much Torfan has done to you, John. And if I can help you get closure in some sort of way, then I'll do it. Because I love you, you crazy son of a bitch." She said with a smile.

I return the gesture, and then I wrinkle my nose.

"My face is kinda cold." I said. "Did someone leave an air conditioner on?"

There's an awkward pause. Not even Zaeed wants to make eye contact.

"John…" Dr. Chakwas began. "The burns weren't too extensive on your lower body, but it did a number on your hair in general. To get a better assessment of what the damage underneath was I…cut it."

She hands me a mirror, and I look into it.

I am silent.

And for the first time in years, I find myself staring back into the face of the Butcher of Torfan.

Scars and all.

A/N: After about two weeks, I return! There isn't much to the Zaeed mission, unfortunately, especially when you go the route I did and take the paragon decision. So I decided to pad a little bit and add to the ending. And if you're wondering what John Shepard looks like with his burned hair shorn off…think Solid Snake. Just not Old Snake, obviously. But he _does_ now have burns on the side of his face that are very similar to the ones that Old Snake has accumulated by the end of MGS4.

Also, be sure to vote on the new poll I have on my profile page! It's good to gauge, considering that you guys helped me organize the loyalty missions in a way I'm very pleased with.

See you next time!


	32. A New Development

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on. **BE SURE TO VOTE ON THE POLL ON MY PROFILE. AFTER THE PUBLICATION OF THE NEXT CHAPTER, I WILL CLOSE IT.**

It's been years since I was truly clean-shaven. Even in my time with the COBRAs, I let a little bit of scruff grow every now and then. Especially whenever it was time for a mission that required us to be camping out in the middle of nowhere for an extended period of time. But ever since Torfan, I hadn't really figured it necessary to actually shave. On one hand, it might have something to do with me being lazy.

But on the other, far more likely hand, it probably had something to do with the scars.

There was that jagged son of a bitch again, the one that started up at the end of my jawbone and worked its way down my cheek to a hairlength away from my lip. In the old days, they used to call that kind of cut a Glasgow grin. I just called it fucking ugly. And my entire left cheek was a smattering of small little cuts and scars that criss-crossed together, making for a quilt of scar tissue on my face. That was the friendly reminder that the shrapnel gave me of how close I'd been to being completely fucked.

I gingerly ran my fingers along the mottled skin, and winced as I saw the burn damage. The entire right side of my face looked like hell, all things considered. It was enough to make the cut on my other side look positively tame. And I know that it would fade away, but in the end it was a reminder of yet another time where I nearly got killed for the stupidest of reasons. I sat upright in the bed, and clearly the medication had worn off because I didn't feel woozy immediately after.

"Are you ok, John?" Sis asked. I looked at her, and then I shrugged.

"Well, I feel a little bit colder." I said. Sis' lip tugged upwards, but she didn't completely smile.

"You can grow it back out, you know. I don't have the same regulations and requirements that the Alliance has."

"No." I said, after finishing…well, I wouldn't call it "admiring"…the damage on my face. I look like a Butcher. Not bad. And there's really nothing I can do at this point. "No…I'll keep it clean for a while. So long as the others don't get scared by me."

"I'll make sure that they don't." Sis said. She then turned to Zaeed. "Now that he's up, you're off to mess duty. I expect something that doesn't taste like whatever it is that Gardner calls spaghetti tonight."

Zaeed grumbled something unintelligible and no doubt unrepeatable, but he obeyed Sis' words and sauntered off to the mess hall. Sis turned back towards me.

"Seriously, John. Are you ok?"

"I didn't say it just to make you feel better, Jane." I said. "I'll get used to it."

There's a silence for a little bit of time, and then I turn to her again.

"Where are we right now?" I asked.

"In space, en route to the Citadel. And then we need to head somewhere kind of off-grid."

"What for?"

"Jack…needs a favor." Sis said. "She needs to take care of something, and I told her as soon as we were done on the Citadel that I would help her out."

I get myself out of the bed, and after taking a few ginger steps, I know that I'm okay. I look over at Sis.

"When do we land on the Citadel?" I asked.

"About two hours, I think." Sis said. I nodded.

"When we do…let's find somewhere to get a drink. If you don't mind?"

She seemed surprised that I was even asking, seeing as how I hadn't done that in…well, literally years I suppose. But then she slowly nodded.

"Yeah, that'd be great John."

…

We ended up picking this dark place somewhere in the Zakara Ward of the Citadel. Cake Dark Star or some shit like that. We found a booth off to the side, where we could silently people watch, and more importantly give off the appropriate vibe of "don't disturb unless you want a boot up your ass."

I watched Sis stare wistfully at a couple of the dancers as they walked by, and I couldn't help but speak.

"Things going okay with Liara?" I asked.

She doesn't make eye contact. She just gives a listless sort of shrug, and then continues to aimlessly stir her drink. I raise an eyebrow.

"Things seemed to be getting better when you talked to her back when we recruited Thane, you know."

"Well, John, the thing about relationships is that the death of one tends to have a profound effect on the other." Sis said, the caustic tone just dripping over every word. "And there are times where I wonder what happened to the shy archaeologist I fell head over heels for. I don't recognize this cold information broker." She shuddered. "Even when I think about her and how much I miss her, I don't know if she really misses me that much. Or, rather, she's just going through the motions because she remembers what we used to have. Does any of what I'm saying make sense?"

I think it over, and take a pull from my drink. I shrug.

"It sounds like you need some time with her, outside of her office, where you know no one else is listening, to see what she really feels. Otherwise you're just gonna be doing this dance forever."

"Like you and Miranda?"

I nearly choke on my drink. I look Sis in the eye, who now has that awful twinkle in her eyes that means that something bad is going to happen and it's probably going to happen to me.

"There is _nothing_ going on between Miranda and I."

"Yeah?" Sis asked. "And yet you helped save her sister. Miranda told me about that. Rather, she wouldn't shut up about the fact that you were so willing to help her. Mind you, this is _Miranda_ we're talking about, Bro. She doesn't ever tell _anyone_ about her problems or complement people. I don't think she's programmed to know what complementary behavior _is._ So for her to say that sort of thing about you…that means a lot more than you think."

"Ok." I said. She frowned.

"Oh… _shit._ "

I follow her eyes to see what she's staring at. But then I get a look.

The woman is dressed in some impossibly tacky clothing, and there's a little drone hovering after her. From the look of her, it's clear that she's some tacky reporter. And it's also clear from the wolfish glint in her eyes that she is _very_ happy that she has found my sister. Before Sis can get up from the table, the reporter corners her. We're trapped.

"Commander Shepard?" She asked. "I'm Khalisah bint-Sinan al-Jilani of Westerlund News."

Sis just gives her the greatest "fuck off" glare I have ever seen. It doesn't work on this al-Jilani lady. She just smiles sweetly.

"I interviewed you two years ago, in the middle of the Geth crisis. You handled yourself well on camera." She gestured to her drone. "…Do you have a minute?"

I'm no media mogul, but I know that those five words are the most deadly words a reporter can ever present to a target. Innocuous at first glance, but utterly cutting if you fall for the trap.

"What, so you can do another smear job on me?" Sis asked.

"Now Shepard, you may object to my methods, but we're on the same side." al-Jilani said. Not with that sickly sweet tone of voice, we aren't. But before either of us can say anything, she's speaking again. "You're back, you're news! I just want to give your story its due."

And just like that, the little combat drone is lighting up the booth.

"Sources claim that you were at the heart of the Presidium during the Battle of the Citadel." al-Jilani began. "It's fair to say that the course of the battle hinged on your words."

Okay, not the worst I've heard. Maybe this lady isn't so ba-

"If true, you told Admiral Hackett to assist the Destiny Ascension, costing hundreds of human lives and securing the continued dominance of the Citadel Council."

…Okay, time to introduce this reporter to my own brand of "inveeestigative reporting." By which I mean she can investigate the back of my hand with her cheek. But before I can do anything, Sis speaks up.

"The Turians lost 20 cruisers, you know." She said. "Figure each had a crew of around 300. The Ascension – the Asari dreadnought we saved – had a crew of nearly 10,000."

Al-Jilani seemed to sense where this was going.

"But _surely_ the _human_ cost-"

"The Alliance lost eight cruisers." Sis said. "Shenyang. Emden. Jakarta. Cairo. Seoul. Cape Town. Warsaw. Madrid. And, yes, _I remember them all._ "

There's something about the way she said that last bit that makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

"Everyone in the Fifth Fleet is a hero." She continued. "The Alliance owes them all medals. The Council owes them a lot more than that." She paused, and then leaned inclose. "And _so do you._ "

There's a breath-taking pause, and then al-Jilani turns to her holopad.

"…Commander Shepard, first human SPECTRE, hero of the Battle of the Citadel." As soon as the feed cuts, I hear her mutter something to herself. "…Great. Bullrushed on my own show."

"We get what we deserve." Sis muttered. Al-Jilani turned towards her.

"Are you serious? You couldn't even give me a single sound-bite to work with? You have no idea how much of a disaster that interview was!"

"I seem to recall giving you nothing but the truth." Sis said. She took a sip of her tea. "Now, granted, that might not fit in with the pre-conceived narrative that you were trying to sell to your viewership at Westerlund News but…I suppose that's none of my business." She took another sip of tea. al-Jilani looked like she'd been force fed an unripe lemon. She stammered something, and then she made eye contact with me. I saw her narrow her eyes.

"And who are you? The Commander's little yes-man boy toy?"

Sis coughed violently into her drink. I just stared blankly at al-Jilani, and then I gave her my little shark smile.

She scurried off, and then Sis and I looked at each other. And then we started laughing.

"What a shitty reporter." I said. "She had two big stories sitting next to each other at the table, and she blew right past it."

"It's Westerlund." Sis said. "They're not exactly the best at fact-checking. Or reporting. Or telling the truth. Or…really, just about anything." She sighed. "I really should have just punched her. I thought about it last time. Maybe the next time she hunts me down I'll kick her in the…well, you know."

"It just doesn't sound as funny when you can't say 'kick them in dick,' does it Jane?" I asked, trying not to smile.

"No. It really doesn't. Man, we really are an anthropocentric bag of dicks."

"…I'm sorry?" I asked.

"A bartender on Illium said that." Sis said. "She was pretty funny. I bet you'd like her." She sighs. "Yeah, Liara and I…well, it isn't the way it was. But I _want_ it to be. I miss her so damn bad, John. I know that I've had more than my fair share of fuck-ups when it comes to relationships…"

"You really love her, don't you?" I asked. I could just see it in the way her eyes seemed to glass over with the beginning stages of tears, as well as the way her lips seemed to quiver. My sister might physically be here with me, but she was clearly elsewhere, dreaming of happier times. It was enough to make me regret my outburst at this Liara back on Illium. I'm sure she was a lovely lady, if only a little bit cold.

"More than anything, John." She said. "I…I miss her. Do you think that she'd listen to me if I just asked if she wanted to talk?"

"There's no shame in trying." I said. "And it's a damn sight better than just sitting around and wondering what if. My sister didn't save an entire colony by sitting on her ass, that's for sure."

She smirks a little bit.

"Thanks, John." She said. The waitress comes over and gives us our bill. "Come on, let's get out of here. I think I need to make a phone call…or two."

…

I find myself wandering through the halls of the Normandy some time later. We're on our way to this planet off in the distance, somewhere that was important to Jack. She wouldn't say anything about why, but it was clear that she'd found something that had really agitated her. She was even a jerk to _me,_ and she was usually pretty chill about the way she interacted with the Butcher. Ok, she still swore like a sailor, but there wasn't anything caustic to it. But whatever we were approaching was clearly sitting poorly with her.

I decided to stop by the mess hall if for no other reason than force of habit, and I was greeted to the sight of Thane sitting at the table. He looked up.

"It's good to see you, Jonathan." He said. He motioned towards the table. "Come to keep me company?" He asked. I shrugged.

"If I'm not intruding." I said. Thane shook his head.

"Not at all. Sometimes this place can get unsettlingly quiet."

"Even for an assassin like you?" I asked, trying not to smile. Thane looked at me with utmost seriousness.

"Especially for someone like me." He said. "In my profession, there was a difference between quiet and the absolute absence of noise. The former was not to be trusted; the latter was a sign that I had achieved absolute focus."

"And you can tell the difference?" I asked.

"John. I am a trained assassin." Thane said, and it looked like he was smiling a little bit. "I'd be rather disappointing at my job if I didn't pick up a few quirks here and there."

"I guess so." I said. There was a comfortable silence that passed between us, and he took a moment to sip his tea. I reached into my pocket, and absently pulled out a baseball. I started spinning it between my fingers. At this, Thane looked up.

"Did you play?"

I nearly dropped the ball.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you played." Thane said. I gawked a bit.

"You know about baseball?" I asked. Thane smiled.

"During one of my earlier assassination missions, I was tasked with killing a corrupt human politician somewhere out in the colonies. He tended to conduct most of his business from the skybox of a particularly fancy stadium. I would attend the games to get a glimpse at him and the circles he ran with…and I picked up an appreciation for the game in and of itself." He said. He gestured for the ball, and I tossed it over. It was like watching an age-old veteran, the way he spun the thing between his fingers. He smirked. "Perhaps in another life I might have made a good pitcher. It always seemed the most cerebral position on the diamond."

"I liked being a catcher." I said. "I mean, it was hell on my knees, but it was fun barnstorming out in the colonies with whomever you could play with."

"Was it something that your father and you did frequently?" Thane asked. I was silent for a moment. The memories started to flood back.

 _There's a field, and the fence out in the outfield blocks off a near-idyllic cornfield. It looks like every boy's picturing of the Field of Dreams. There's a bunch of off-duty Alliance soldiers, and there are local colonists that are there too to forget about their jobs and stresses. Families line the outside of the field, in mock bleachers. It's not really formal, but god damn it's fun. There's a smell of grass and pine tar in the air._

 _I put on the mask, and signal to the pitcher. Dad takes the sign, smiles a little bit, and fires a perfect strike. My glove practically explodes, a veritable thunderclap as the ball hits the mitt in the sweet spot._

I blink, and I'm back in the Normandy. Thane looks at me and smiles somewhat appreciatively.

"You did it a lot, didn't you?" He asked.

"…Whenever we could." I admitted. I felt my shoulders hunching in embarrassment. "…Sorry. I guess I zoned out there for a moment." Thane chuckled. It's a bit of a raspy sound, but not nearly as guttural as some of his worse days.

"I'm a Drell, John." He said. "Lapsing into beautiful memories is one of our greatest strengths…or weaknesses, depending if you're willing to stay forever in the past."

"I guess so." I said. Thane tossed the ball back to me.

"I try to follow Earth teams whenever I can. Do you keep up with the sport?"

"Haven't been able to in about ten years." I said. Thane smiles, a little twinkle in his eye.

"Then perhaps I have someone to talk to. Consider it a little way for me to pass the time, and think about things other than this mission, the fact that we might die, or that I am terminal."

Well, _that_ got dark in a hurry. Thane doesn't seem to be bothered by it, though. So I focus on the offer instead. And I smile.

"Yeah…yeah, that'd be great Thane." And then I frown. "I hope you're not a Yankees fan."

Thane looks up from his tea, and he actually looks offended.

"I prefer Keprel's Syndrome."

It's so out of the blue and out of character that I start laughing before I can stop myself. Thane smiles too, and starts chuckling right back. As we laugh, I feel a sense of relief and a sense of resignation.

Yeah, he's probably not a Yankees fan.

He's definitely a Cardinals fan. Those guys are _obnoxious._

…

I feel significantly better after my little talk with Thane, and for the first time in ages I haven't even bothered to think about the scars. And as I walk down the hallway, it hits me.

Thane didn't even mention them. Not only that, but he probably didn't notice them. Or think that they were worth commenting on.

I feel even better now.

I find myself standing outside the door, and I hesitate for a second. I don't know why. Might have something to do with the fact that I'm afraid that Sis is recording me or something. Fuck it, let her record. Besides, it's not like there's anything for her to record. Miranda and I are just friends.

I enter her office, and I notice that she doesn't acknowledge me. There are two explanations for that. One is that she's too busy with her work that she didn't even notice me coming in. That's happened in the past, but that's pretty unlikely.

Because the _other_ explanation is that she can't hear me over whatever it is that she's listening to.

She's sitting in her desk, and she's got headphones on. Not little earbuds either, but nice and comfortable over-the-ear headphones. The kind that rappers endorse but are way overrated. But knowing Miranda, she found the one pair that is worth every penny. She's got her eyes closed, and she's honestly bobbing her head back and forth to whatever the tune is. There's a little smile on her face, and it's pretty adorable considering how ice-cold she is most of the time.

I weigh my options here. The first choice is to come back later. That's the polite thing to do. It's the gentlemanly thing to do. Miranda is distracted, no need to interrupt her. But it's also the _boring_ thing to do.

I silently pull out my iDroid, and press a button. It's an old-ass machine, but it has its perks. One of which is that it can tap into whatever nearby radio station is playing, and let me know what the song is in case I want to tune in. Not a bad option. I make sure that the volume is low, and I press the "link" option.

 _The world is ours, if we want it_

 _We can take it, if you just take my hand_

 _There's no turning back now, baby try to understand_

 _Don't wanna break your heart, wanna give your heart a break_

 _I know you're scared it's wrong, like you might make a mistake_

 _There's just one life to live, and there's no time to waste, to waste_

 _So let me give your heart a break, give your heart a break_

…Once again, weighing my options. Do I leave now? Or do I enter the lion's den, and subject myself to hellish punishments the likes of which can never be repeated?

…I'm a glutton for self-punishment.

I silently creep forward, using my best sneaking skills. If only my commanding officers could see me now: using the vaunted COBRA training to play the equivalent of a slapstick prank on someone else. They'd be _so_ proud of me.

She still doesn't see me. I get to the side of the desk, and I can _hear_ the music pulsing through her earbuds. That's pretty bad for your hearing, miss genetically superior.

Like a demon from the depths of hell, I pop up in front of her.

"Might wanna turn down the volume, y'know."

Oh, the effects were gloriously immediate.

Miranda honestly _shrieks_ in shock, tumbling out her desk chair and landing flat on her ass. The headphones clatter to the ground, and almost immediately she's back on her feet. There's a look of primal rage in her eyes, the biotics flaring, and for a brief moment, I regret this course of action. But then she sees who it was, and her anger gives way to… _supreme_ annoyance.

" _JOHN!_ " She growls. She then sits down on her chair again, and folds her arms across her chest. "Haven't you heard of knocking?"

"Haven't you heard of volume control?" I asked. And then I smirk. "Interesting choice of song, y'know."

She averts eye contact.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said. "I was listening to a podcast. Very informative things."

"For someone who's trained in black ops, you're a terrible liar." I said. She looks at me and scowls.

"Well, it's difficult when I have a complete _ass_ bothering me at the most inane of times!" She said, standing upright and then walking towards the window of her office. She closed the door behind me with a press of a button. Clearly she doesn't want me running away and spreading the word that she listens to silly 21st century pop music in her spare time.

"…Is there a reason that you came by?" She asked. I shrugged.

"Not really. Just wanted to say hello."

She rolls her eyes.

"Oh. In that case helloooooh-" She trails off. It's then that I realize that this must be the first time that she's gotten a chance to see me without the beard or long hair. "Oh my."

At this, I feel a pang of ice in my gut.

"What's the matter?" I asked, already knowing the answer to my question.

"Your…hair…" Miranda said. At this, I just feel all the rage and frustration and angst and self-loathing bubble up. And it comes out at the worst possible time.

"What?" I snap. "That I look awful? That I look like a fucking monster, with these goddamn scars and this brand new burn on my cheek?" I asked. "That I look like a butcher, that I look like a war criminal? Is that what you were going to say?"

"No!" Miranda shouts, cutting me off. She looks at me, and then bites her lower lip.

"What were you going to say?" I asked. She's silent, and then she speaks.

"…I was going to say that you look nice. That clean-shaven is a good look on you."

Oh. Well, that's not what I expected.

The awkward silence hangs over us for a moment. And then I speak.

"Oh…I'm…I'm sorry." I said. "I…I didn't mean to yell at you. Oh, god. I didn't mean to yell at you." I said. She looks at me, and there's just something about the way she looks at me that calms me.

"I understand, John. And it's okay. I know you didn't mean it." She looks away. "But clearly I must be wrong. I guess that's another mistake that I can take credit for." She said. At this, I raise an eyebrow.

"What do you mean? I snapped at you, it has nothing to do with you."

"I know…but here I am thinking of myself as an expert at reading people, and yet I am never able to properly read people since joining with your sister. It's…I do enjoy working with her, but it's exhausting. And…a little bit deflating."

"What?" I asked.

"She's just a normal woman, even with our cybernetics enhancing her. And she keeps kicking my ass in everything. She's better at analyzing situations, and she's better at leading a team. Among many, many other things." She said. She's still not making eye contact. "I was genetically enhanced to be superior, and yet every step I find myself _sprinting_ just to _break even_ with her. It's…I don't know what it is, but I don't like it."

At this, I can scarcely believe my ears. Is she…no. There is a good way of going about doing this, and there's a bad way of going about and doing this. If I can get Miranda out of this funk, then perhaps I can explain to her that it isn't a contest with my sister, and that she is an incredible individual, and that she is essential to this mission and my sister relies on her.

…All of those things are things that Jane would say if she were in my position. Unfortunately, I'm not my sister.

"…Are you…jealous of my sister?" I asked. Miranda's eyes snap over to me, and she looks thoroughly unamused.

"Don't be ridiculous."

But then the grin starts forming over my face.

"You _are._ "

Now there's a trace of panic in her eyes, in addition to the critical mass of annoyance.

"I am _not-_ Wait. What are we, five year olds?" She sputtered in annoyance.

"I dunno." I said. "You're the one that's jealous of someone because they're better than you."

"Better than _me?_ " Miranda said, walking towards me. " _I'm_ the one that put your sister back together. Bit by painstaking bit. And I do _damn_ good work."

"…Still jealous." I said, after letting the silence marinate juuuust long enough. There's an art to being an asshole. I have discovered this in my years of being one.

" _AAAAAUGH!_ " Miranda's biotics flare up, and her eyes glow pure blue. "Say something else, John, and I will _flense_ you!"

"You're having fun." I said. She's not quite as angry.

"No I'm not."

"Yeah you are."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Are not!"

We're standing right next to each other now. I didn't realize how close we'd gotten. There's nothing but silence. I'm looking at her. She's looking at me. There's something in the air. Don't know what it is. So I do the only thing that a smartass like me does in this sort of situation.

I winked at her.

And, before I knew what was going on, she closed the gap, pulled me in close, and kissed me.

 **A/N:** …Well, _that_ escalated quickly. Where on earth could we go next from here? Oh, the stories that can be told! And truthfully, I think it was only a matter of time. Now the real question becomes: what happens when _Shepard_ finds out about this? We'll see…

In slightly self-promoting and probably unfeasible news, if there is genuine interest I was thinking of putting forth a challenge to any of my readers that are artistically skilled (DeviantArt or otherwise): what do you think John Shepard looks like? I don't have any monetary incentive to offer, but I do have this: if anyone is willing to pull it off, then I will write that fan into the story.

It's a long shot and there isn't much of a reward, but my lack of artistic talent sometimes bothers me. I can write well enough, but I was not blessed with visual representation skills. If you're interested, drop a message to my profile.

Alright, that about wraps up the announcements. See you next time!


	33. Are There Second Acts in Life?

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on. **24 HOURS FROM THE PUBLICATION OF THIS CHAPTER, I AM CLOSING THE POLL ON MY PROFILE! VOTE IF YOU HAVEN'T!**

In my lifetime, I've had more than a couple of kisses. Some of them I was drunker than others, but the end result was usually the same. Over the past ten years or so – with a particular emphasis on the years I spent in exile – I might have imbibed in a few kisses with…more than a few women over the years. Asari, Human…well, I don't _think_ I kissed a female Turian. Might have done it once or twice on a drunken dare.

But as god as my witness, this one left them all in the dust.

And then, almost as soon as it happened, and right when I was really starting to enjoy myself, she broke away. And the magnitude of what the hell had just happened finally seemed to sink in. I took a moment to really get a good look at Miranda's expression. It was utterly priceless.

Her eyes were bigger than dinner plates, her mouth slightly agape in a look of silent horror. She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times like a fish, and then started to speak.

Well, at least she tried.

"…What the hell was that?" She managed to mumble. I looked at her and shrugged.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think that you call that a kiss."

"Oh god…Um…" Miranda started pacing back and forth. "This, um, okay, this doesn't mean anything. We just – God, I need to, er, think. Yeah. I need – I need…you know, lots to do, what with…um – you know. Things. And think. I need to think. Wait, I already said that. I, um…I'll talk to you later."

She finished her little stammering, and turned to look at me. I cocked my head to the side, unable to process what I was seeing. Was…was she _blushing?_ I didn't know she was capable of such a thing. I guess she was human after all.

The thought of it all made me smile.

She didn't like that.

"And _stop smiling,_ dammit!"

I chuckled, and I left the room.

…

Of course, as soon as the doors closed behind me (and locked, I noticed), that's when it hit _me_ what had just happened. My head started swimming, and I leaned against the wall and put my hand to my forehead.

"Oh Jesus Christ, I just kissed Miranda Lawson."

" _Woohoo!_ About time!"

In my lifetime, I have never drawn a weapon and pointed it at a noise faster than I did in that exact moment. I must have looked feral, the way my eyes were bulging and the way the panic registered on my features. There was a little whooshing, and Kasumi materialized in front of me with her hands up.

"Don't shoot!" She said. As soon as I recognized her, I lowered the gun. She chuckled. "Still riding that high there, Johnny?"

"Wha…" I managed to mumble out.

"Oh please, it was so obvious." Kasumi said. "Well, at least to me. Ever since we went and got Hock, I could tell there was something. The way you were gawking at her in that red dress…I just set my watch and waited. You're lucky I didn't get a pool going. Truthfully, I'm surprised that you took this long. And I'm _really_ surprised that neither of you jumped on the chance to ravish the other."

At this, I nearly drop my gun.

"I would never do that!" I sputtered. At this, Kasumi raised an eyebrow.

"Really? I mean, I don't swing that way, but you have _seen_ Miranda, yes?"

"Duh." I said.

"Then you have to know why I'm so surprised." She just grinned. "Guess I just have to wait for the next breakthrough." She then crossed her arms over her chest. "And before you ask, _no_ I'm not going to tell anyone. Especially not your sister, who I imagine would find this positively _hilarious._ "

"You're wise to do so." I said. Kasumi giggled.

"God, this is better than any of those terrible soaps that Keiji got me to watch! I can't wait to see what kind of a trainwreck this turns into." She said. She then walked off. "Let me know how the next time talking with Miranda goes!"

She then disappeared, leaving me very confused and irritated.

…

A few minutes later, I received the call to head towards the docking bay of the ship. Apparently, we'd reached some planet that was very important to Jack. She hadn't specified why, but if Sis thought that it was worth pursuing then I guess it was worth pursuing. As soon as I made my way to the shuttle, I saw that in addition to Sis and Jack there was also Thane. He looked at me and nodded.

"Good to see you, Jonathan." He said. "I look forward to working with you."

"Surprised that you left the life support chambers." I said. "Usually you don't go out."

"I figured I needed to stretch my legs again, after that business on Omega." He said. He then demurred to my sister, who looked at the two of us.

"This is Pragia. On it was a Cerberus facility that Jack says…she was made." Sis seemed to shudder a little bit as she spoke those words. "So we're coming back to visit."

Jack looked like she wanted to punch the next person that said something snarky, so I decided it was wiser for my internal organs if I kept my mouth shut.

As the Kodiak soared through the air, the four of us sat in the hold and adjusted our weapons. Except for Jack, who was silently sitting in the corner like she wanted to be left alone.

" _Shepard, I am detecting thermal signatures at every location except where you will be landing._ " EDI chimed in.

"Something must be jamming the scanners." Sis said. "Very high-tech stuff."

"Considering this is a secret Cerberus research facility, I am not surprised." Thane said.

"Yeah, they built their shit to last." Jack said, breaking her silence. "Fucking assholes." She turned to Sis. "It was a mistake coming here, Shepard."

"Get ahold of yourself." Sis said gently. "It'll be okay."

"I'm fine." Jack snapped. "Let's get on the ground, okay?"

It was thundering and storming heavily as we landed on the helipad. The rain was thick and almost suffocating. As we made our way down one of the walkways and into the facility, Jack was chomping at the bit.s

"Let's just get in there and plant the bomb in my cell." Jack said. "I want to watch this place _burn._ " She said.

"We're destroying this place?" I asked. Jack glowered.

"Yes. Why? Got a reason to say no, shitbird?"

"Destroying Cerberus property?" I asked. "I'll never question that order." I kept the safety on my gun off. I'd decided to bring out an assault rifle, a basic M-7 Avenger, for this mission. Jack seemed satisfied with my answer, and then silently fell in line behind Sis.

…

We entered the facility, and almost immediately the first thing that caught my eye was how…empty the place felt. Even though there was furniture and other amenities, everything looked and felt empty. We were in some sort of receiving area, right where there might have been a reception desk.

"I never saw this room." Jack said. "I think they brought new kids in these containers. They were starving, hungry, messed up, but alive. Usually."

As we made our way down the ruined hallways and the overgrowth that was starting to permeate the place, I felt the lack of any activity to be utterly exhausting. I was trained to expect anything, and the fact that there was nothing in sight was both setting off my alarm bells as well as relaxing me, creating a weird sort of dichotomy that didn't mesh. Put simply, I was stressing out. Right next to me, I could hear Thane. He was muttering something.

"What are you saying?" I asked.

"A prayer." Thane said. "I can feel a great wickedness in this place. I pray to Kalahira for serenity and peace, both for us as well as for those that were killed or harmed in this facility."

I was silent for a moment, and then I spoke.

"Think you could throw in a prayer for me too? I'm getting creeped out by this place."

"Of course, Jonathan."

As we made our way to a guard depot, Sis brushed off a holo-recorder nearby the desk and hit play.

" _The Illusive Man requested operation logs again. He's getting suspicious._ " A security officer said.

" _When we get results, he won't care_ _ **what**_ _we did. But if he knew…_ " The second voice on the recording trails off.

"A rogue facility, perhaps?" Thane offered.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" Jack hissed. "He didn't say what they were hiding from the Illusive Man."

Sis opened a door, leading out into a generator room.

"When I escaped, I fought through this room. I remember seeing the cracks of sunlight through the ceiling." Jack said. "Only a half-dead guard between me and freedom. He was begging for his life."

Jack went silent, but we were all adults and were smart enough to figure out what that silence meant.

…

The next major area was an open court, of sorts. There were little barricades in the center of the place, all set up in a haphazard circle. Some of them had clearly fallen apart with time and the ivy and foliage was growing all over them, but it was clear that they were circled up. Sis was the first to speak.

"This looks like an arena of some sort." She said.

"Yup." Jack said. "They used to bring me out here. To fight with the other kids. A way to test my abilities." She smiled sadly. "It was the only time that they ever let me out of my cell."

"How many of the other kids died?" I asked.

"I was a kid, hopped up on drugs." Jack said. "I got shocked if I resisted. Narcotics flooded through my veins whenever I fought." Her blank façade broke, and it looked like she was about to cry. "I don't know how many."

"What the hell was wrong with these people?" Sis asked. "They actually conditioned you to fight?"

"I don't know what drove them. Doesn't matter now." Jack said. "And yeah…I still get a warm feeling whenever I'm in a fight. They did that part pretty well."

"What on earth could they possibly be studying with this?" Sis asked.

"Don't know. Just how to create the baddest biotic bitch in the galaxy." Jack said. "They succeeded."

Thane stood in the center of the makeshift arena. He knelt down to one knee, and gently swept the ground with his fingers.

"Yo, Drell-boy. What the hell are you doing?" Jack asked.

"May the Ocean cleanse this place, and the souls of the departed be carried out to sea." Thane whispered quietly. He stood back up. "I can feel the pain of every last one of them. There is an immeasurable sadness to this place."

"Hey, quit it with the religious horseshit Krios." Jack snapped. "None of that shit matters, anyway."

"It is all I can do in the absence of actual action in the moment." Thane said. "That is better than nothing."

Jack frowned, and then a worried look briefly flashed across her eyes.

"Let's keep moving, everyone." Sis said.

I was tailing to the back of the group, periodically looking at the ground, and then at the walls, and then up at the ceiling. Taking this place in. It was unlike anything that I had ever been to before. And I felt something in the very walls. I didn't know how to explain it, and if you asked me to put it in words I feel I was doing it a disservice. Even at Torfan, I could describe it in a single word: hell.

Here? It felt like evil. Man's inherent cruelty to man, or something like that. And it just set my teeth on edge. I wished there was something to shoot in this place. Right now there was nothing in this place but us and…that feeling.

We came to another hallway some ways down the line, and there was a little security kiosk sitting in the center of the hallway. Sis pressed a button to turn it on, and there was the torso of a security guard from before.

" _Security Officer Zemki, Teltin Facility. The subjects are out of their cells! They're tearing the place up! Subject Zero is going to get loose. I need permission to terminate – I repeat, permission to terminate!"_

" _All subjects besides Subject Zero are expendable. Keep Jack alive!_ "

"That's not right." Jack said, turning off the transmission before it kept going. "I broke out when my guards disappeared – I started the riots."

"Things might have happened that you didn't see." Sis said.

"The other kids attacked me. The guards attacked me. He automated systems attacked me." Jack said. "That doesn't leave lots of room for interpretation!"

"She has a point, Sis." I said. "But at the same time…" I said. "But at the same time…something is not lining up."

As we opened the next door, we were treated with a sight that immediately set us on edge.

It was a pair of Varren. Slumped in the corner, both of them bleeding profusely.

"This place was supposed to be empty." Jack snarled. "Who the fuck shot those Varren? It's a fresh kill."

"We're not alone." I said, turning off the safety of my rifle.

"Eyes open." Sis said. "Maintain radio silence. And if you see anything…weapons free."

...

The next room that we made our way through did little to calm the nerves. It was open, but there were a lot of…were those…

"Why'd they need a morgue?" Jack asked, looking at the caskets that lined the room. "This was a small facility."

"A lot of children must have died here." Thane said. "They were all pawns in the game."

"Bullshit." Jack said. "I had the worst of it, and I made it out alive."

But I notice that there is a sense of panic lacing her words, as if she is trying to convince herself of this fact moreso than the rest of us.

And that's when I heard the clinking sound.

"GRENADE!" I shouted, forcing the others to die to cover as the concussive blast went off. Just like that, the room was a killzone. Gunfire coming in from all directions, both from the door at the end of the hall as well as doorways that opened up to the left and the right. I blindly fired over cover, and then grabbed a grenade and chucked it somewhere where I thought there was an enemy. I heard the explosion, and then the dying scream. It was a very telling scream.

"Vorcha!" I shouted. "They're Blood Pack!"

"What the fuck are these fucking fuckers doing here?" Jack snarled, racking her shotgun and then popping out of cover, blowing one of them apart with a single shot to the chest.

"I don't know, Jack, you wanna ask them?" I asked, reloading.

"Both of you, zip it!" Sis barked, firing a controlled burst form her Vindicator. "Krogan! Twelve o'clock! Concentrate fire!"

I raised up out of cover, feeling a few rounds strike the edges of my shileds, and opened up a burst on the Krogan at the end of the hall. The rounds splashed into his armor, but didn't stop him. Rather, they only seemed to make the bastard angry. He et out a roar, and beat his chest.

"Ah fuck, he's gonna charge!" I shouted.

He got about two steps in. Then the grenade went off in his face. Like a wraith, Thane materialized behind him, leapt on his back, grabbed the base of the neck, and yanked as hard as he could. There was a dull popping sound, and the Krogan slumped to the ground. And with that came silence. Sis looked up from the casket she'd been hiding behind. And then she spoke.

"Everyone okay?"

"Yup!"

"Fucking shit!"

"I am as well as a terminally ill man can be."

"Yeah, seriously, Thane." I said. "Did you just break that Krogan's neck?"s

"Yes." Thane said. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I coughed once.

"Um…do you normally break Krogan's necks?"

"If I can." Thane said. "I usually approach from the top, hit them with a double-strike to the eye ridge, slide down between their blinded raised arms, then hit a precision nerve strike to the throat, and then a secondary nerve strike to the gland that activates their blood rage, followed by a quad kick to bend the target, followed by a grip to each side of the skull and then a running leaping spinning neck snap." He spaused. "But that takes a lot of time. I assumed a bomb would suffice in this case."

"Remind me not to cheat you at cards." I said.

"I don't lose at cards, so that is a non-issue." Thane said. He looked like he was smiling.

"Jack, you okay?" Sis asked. The tattooed woman shook her head.

"Fuck, I'm confused, Shepard." She said. "I feel like…I'm pissed off. I'm a dangerous bitch. But then I'm a little girl again. And why are the Blood Pack here? What's the point?"

"I think we're gonna find the answer to that question the deeper we get into this place." I said.

We pegged a pair of Vorcha that had been hanging back in case their buddies didn't make it, and made our way out to a two-floored room with a large tree growing in the center. Jack looked at one of the walls and frowned.

"This…it's a two way mirror? My cell is on the other side – I could see all the other kids out here…I screamed at them for hours. They always ignored me."

"I guess the scientists didn't want them all to get distracted." I offered.

In the next room, there were several security consoles. It was really dark. The lights were shorted out, and it smelled like the plumbing was out in the room right next door. We avoided that room for obvious reasons.

"I must have come through here when I broke out." Jack said. "I don't remember though…this is a bad place." She shuddered. Jack honestly shuddere. Sis walked over to one of the consoles and fired it up with her omnitool.

" _Entry 1054, Teltin facility. The latest iteration of PergNim went poorly. Subjects One, Four and Six died. No biotic change among the survivors._ " The scientist speaking seemed exhausted and frustrated. " _We lowered core temperatures of the surviving subjecs, but no biotically beneficial reactions occurred. As a side effect, all subjects died. So we'll not try that on Zero. I hope our supply of biotic-potential subjects holds up. We are going through them fast."_

"This is bullshit!" Jack said. "They were experimenting on the other children for my safety!"

"You can't help what they did to others." Sis said gently.

"You don't get it, Shepard." Jack said. "I survived this place beause I was tougher than the rest. That's who I am."

"Sure about that?" I asked. Everyone turned to look at me. Jack snarled.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She asked.

"If toughness was a meritocracy, then there would be a lot more people on Torfan that survived instead of me." I said. I looked Jack in the eye. "Sometimes it isn't a meritocracy. Sometimes it doesn't make sense and it sure as shit ain't fair. Whoever is left is who's left. So you move on, harder and tougher so that you can make it up to them."

"Fuck you, John." Jack hissed, but I could see the panic beginning to register in her eyes.

Thane turned on another security console.

" _It's all fallen to pieces. The subjects are rampaging and Zero is loose. We're shutting Teltin down. What a disaster._ " The scientist said. " _We'll infiltrate and piggyback onto the Alliance's Ascension program. Hopefully that will—who are…? Zero, wai-!"_

It went dead.

"Shepard, they started up somewhere else." Jack said, panicking slightly.

"Ascension is an Alliance program. It's a school for biotic kids." Sis said. "They _don't_ torture children there."

"A lot of this…isn't the way I remember it." Jack finally admitted.

"Not a surprise." I said. "There was a lot of shit going on in this fucking place, and you were a kid." I looked her in the eyes. "Shouldn't be too surprising to remember it one way, when it was really the other way."

"I was dumb. Now I'm awake, and my eys are open and I shoot first." Jack aid. "Now come on, let's get to my cell. We're almost there."

…

Of course, the very next major room was stuffed with Blood Pack. There was a Krogan up on the catwalk, and he turned on his TeamCom.

"Hey Aresh, it's Kureck." He said. "Yeah, the intruders are here. You want them dead, we have to talk creds." He sounded like an annoyed businessman. "You promised us a lot of salvage, but this place is a waste."

He heard a response.

"Fine." Kuresh said. "We'll put 'em down. Then I'm coming in there, and we're going to talk salvage."

I wouldn't have chosen those for my last words, but then again I wasn't the one who proceeded to have his head blown off by a perfect shot from Sis' Widow sniper rifle that she'd discreetly drawn while that yutz was arguing paychecks. Well, it wasn't a total loss: whenever the Krogan got over the Genophage, at least that idiot wasn't going to dilute the gene pool with his genius.

And the nice thing about Vorcha is that when you kill their leader, they're about as strategic as a little kid. Killing them was easy. I barely even noticed it.

When the dust settled, Jack spoke up.

"Only room left is my old cell. Whoever Aresh is, he's in there." She said. "I want to plant the bomb in there, anyway. Might as well do it on his corpse."

…

It was a small and simple living space. A bed, a table or two, and then there was the window that looked out into the atrium that Jack had apparently spent many an empty hour screaming for someone to notice her. It looked too nice to be a prisoner's cell. Which is probably what made it so awful. But there wasn't anyone in the room.

"Come out." Sis said. "We know you're in here."

Aresh looked frail. That was the first thing that I noticed about hi. A bit of a stooped shoulder, like his spine wasn't fully able to straighten out. His hair was greying and thinning badly. His eyes were empty and dull. I could tell that he was around our age. The problem was that he looked about twice that number.

"Who are you?" Jack barked.

"My name is Aresh, and you're breaking into my home." He said. He looked at Jack. "I know you, Subject Zero. So many years have passed, and I thought I was the only survivor."

His voice was equally dead. He didn't emote. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't seem to care. Or recognize what was really going on. Jack drew her gun and p[ointed it at his face.

"My name is Jack. How the hell do you know me?" She asked.

"We all knew your face, Jack." Aresh said, shrugging. "They inflicted horrors on us so their experiments wouldn't kill you." He narrowed his eyes. "You were the question, and I'm still looking for the answer."

"Looks like you're not the only one pulled back here, Jack." Sis observed. Real smooth, Sis. Sometimes silence is golden, not stating the fucking obvious.

"I tried to forget this." Aresh said. "But a place like this…it doesn't forget you. It follows you. I hired these mercs and came back almost a solar year ago. We're rebuilding it, piece by piece." He nodded once. "I'm going to find out what they knew – how to unlock true biotic potential in humans. I'm restarting the Teltin facility." He turned around and looked out the window. "It will be beautiful…"

"I wanted a hole in the ground – he's trying to justify what happened by using it!" Jack said, more shocked than angry. Though I suspected that the latter would come soon enough.

"You'd do the same thing to new kids?" Sis asked. "Wasn't this forced on you?"

"Some were bought from poor families on Earth or kidnapped from colonies. Most ended up here the way I did: batarian pirates."

I felt a simmering rage in me. I fucking hated them. All of those four-eyed bastards.

"They didn such horrible things to us. They must have had good reasons." Aresh continued.

"There's _no reason_ good enough!" Jack snapped. "Are you nuts? You lived this!"

"And yet this place was like a prison." Sis said. "How did you get out?"

"We all attacked at once as they were taking us to the lab. They would have put us all down…but then Jack got loose." Aresh said. "When I came to, it was over – the guards, the scientists, and all the kids were dead. And you were gone."

"I stopped it, all of it!" Jack said. "Maybe the others did have it bad, but what you're doing is just messed."

"Everything we went through must have been worth _**SOMETHING!**_ " Aresh suddenly shouted, and through that hellish look of a disheveled man I could see the scared and confused and frightened look of a child. A child that had been shown the worst of existence from day one and never got a chance to be happy.

I wanted to tell him the truth: that he got a raw deal. That everything he went through in the end was probably pointless. All it had created was a woman that was full of rage and fear and self-loathing, and who was desperate to find some sort of stability in her life. And she might have been a powerful biotic, sure. But that wasn't worth the cost. He'd had his life ruined for a failed experiment. But I held my tongue.

"We can still blow this place sky high, but that leaves him." Sis said to Jack. "What do we do with another you?"

"There's one thing…" Jack muttered.

"Just…leave me here." Aresh said. "This is where I belong."

"Fuck that." Jack said, prepping her pistol.

"Jack, he's trapped in his past. You need to move on from yours." Sis said.

"He wants to restart this place. He needs to die!" Jack said. She looked pissed and angry and…frightened? Even as she held the gun to his head, she was shaking.

"He's crazy, and he's never going to restart this facility. You have to let it go. Your past doesn't have to control you."

Jack was silent for a moment. And then she snarled.

"Fuck!" She then turned towards Aresh. "Get out of here. GO!"

Aresh looked shocked, but then scrambled to his feet and then raced down the hall. Jack watched him go, and she looked at Sis.

"He's not worth chasing. None of this is."

"You did the right thing, Jack." Sis said.

Did she?

"Maybe." Jack said. She then looked around. "This room was my whole childhood. Give me a minute to look around."

"Of course." Sis said.

"Nothing's changed, mind you." Jack said. "But it's all different." She looked to the window. "I thought that room out there was the rest of the world." She said. "I'd pound on the window and I'd scream and cry. Never did any good." She looked over at the bed. "Sometimes I dream I'm back in this bed being tortured. I used to tie the sheets around my wrists and try to rip them off. I…I want to stop coming back here." Jack then looked at a table in the corner. "I used this table for everything. " She started to cry. "It was like my best friend. I'd crawl under it and cry."

The tears were coming down in torrents now.

"God…I'm pathetic." She whispered.

Sis just walked over to her and hugged her. Jack tensed up at first, but then relaxed and hugged Sis back, sniffling heavily.

"John, Thane. Take the equipment I set down on the floor there and set up the bomb." Sis said. "Jack's done enough for today."

We nodded silently, and got to work laying out the purging equipment. This was a nasty piece of work, this bomb. I'd never seen an ordinance this big in a device this small. It was relatively easy to set up, especially with someone as calm and collected as Thane was. He was muttering something to himself all the time, only stopping to gently correct me whenever I didn't prime something properly. I assumed that it was a prayer of sorts. Most likely for Jack.

Finally, we finished prepping the bomb. I looked at Sis, and nodded. She nodded back, and then pressed a hand to her ear to activate TeamCom.

"Joker, send the Kodiak to the landing zone. We're coming out."

…

The ride back was silent. The only sound was Jack flicking the top of the blasting cap on and off with her thumb. She was waiting for Sis to give the word. We did need to clear the blast radius, after all. After a few more seconds of sitting in silence, Sis looked at Jack and nodded. And then she banged on the door to the cockpit to let the driver know that it was time to hit the afterburners.

Jack pressed the button.

Even in the air and this far away, we could feel the shockwave. I don't want to know how close the explosion got to us, but at least there weren't any warning beeps that threatened us with death, so I think we were okay. And in the end, that was what mattered. Jack seemed to let out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding in, and then slouched in her seat. It was over. For her.

I envied her immensely.

…

After re-docking with the Normandy, Sis disappeared into the communications room to speak with the Illusive Man. There was something serious that she needed to discuss with him, about what I wasn't sure. But it clearly didn't have anything to do with me.

As I walked down the hallway, waving hello to Zaeed (who was still on mess duty as punishment, which was starting to grow on him, believe it or not), EDI's little avatar popped up next to me.

"Specialist Jonathan, Miss Lawson requests your presence in her office."

Oh right. There was that little elephant in the room.

I took a deep breath as I approached the door, and then opened it. She was sitting there at her desk, furiously typing away at some sort of report that was probably not nearly as important as the effort that she was putting into it. I cleared my throat. She looked up.

"Um, hello. John." She said.

"Do you have a minute?" I asked. "EDI said that you wanted to see me."

"She…did?" Miranda asked. "…Right. Of course she did. And, um, I suppose we should talk."

She stood up, and leaned against the desk. She looked me in the eye, and her usually cool façade was completely gone.

"I…I don't know what this is. If this is stress, or, just blowing off steam or…" She trailed off, clearly hoping that I had the answer. Joke was on her: I was just as in the dark as she was. So I figured I'd just start talking.

"Well, a kiss like that usually means something. Not like either of us were shitfaced drunk or under the influence." I said.

"This is no time for…emotional entanglement!" Miranda said. She turned around and walked back towards her bed. She sat down on the edge of it. "You and I both know that this mission…it's likely that neither of us are coming back alive…" She trailed off. "We could die. Most likely, we _will_ die."

"I've already died, Miranda." I said. "It doesn't frighten me."

She looked me in the eye.

"But it does to me." She nearly whispered. "I…I am frightened of what happens when we go through that relay. Whatever it is that we find on the other side. And I don't know if we can make it. I have spent all of my energy to make sure that this mission goes off without a hitch. It was supposed to be perfectly planned out." She looked me in the eye. "You were _not_ part of the plan. For all intents and purposes, you were dead. There was no concern with looking into you. And now you're here and you've thrown a wrench into everything and…and it's getting to me and…" She sighed in frustration. "What idiotic bunch of hormones decided that _now_ was the best time for love?" And then she shook her head. "No. It meant nothing. That's all it was. A mistake."

And that bothered me.

"A mistake, huh?" I asked. "Is that all I am to you? Just some redundant equation, all a part of the numbers game that you're throwing into the computer?"

"No, that's not-let me explain…"

"Explain what?" I growled. I could feel the frustration of years and things completely unrelated to this incident colliding with one another and it was all bubbling over. "Explain the fact that I don't matter? That I'm just another twisted trophy? What, you weren't satisfied with putting my sister back together physically; you had to fuck me up mentally for the hat trick?"

"No! No not that-"

"You sure? Because I've had more than my fair share of people pretending to care about me only to fuck me over in the end. Are you one of them?"

"No, John!"

"Then why'd you do it? Why'd you kiss me? Because I didn't start it, remember. You started it. Why'd you do it?"

"…"

"WHY?"

" _Because I wanted to and it was_ _ **completely worth it!**_ " Miranda stood up, the biotics flaring and her eyes glowing an eerie blue. She then sighed, and the biotics diminished. "…I wanted to. I've…wanted to for a while, actually. "

Just like that, the anger and confusion disappeared. And I just stared at her, dumb as a fish. I sighed, and I spoke quietly too.

"I…wanted it too." I said.

There was another silence. And then I found myself rambling. Talking, I guess.

"…I'm not easy to deal with, Miranda." I said. "I'm…prickly. And mean-spirited. And I'm prone to lashing out. And…" I closed my eyes, and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "And I'm just…difficult. God, I'm just so fucking tired of running."

I felt a pair of hands wrap themselves around my waist, and soon Miranda was hugging me. Her head was right under my chin, her hair brushing against my nose.

"That's okay. It's okay, John." She whispered. "You helped me with so much…I can help you. If you want me to."

I looked her in the eye, and gave her a tired smile.

"Hope you're patient, then, Miranda." I finally said. She chuckled.

"I spent two years putting your sister back together. I think I can handle waiting for you to tell me whatever it is that bothers you. But you never have to rush it if you don't want to."

There was something so peacefully reassuring about that. I just sighed. Well, I might even die tomorrow. Might as well take a shot on this craziness. Who the fuck knows where we go from here? I don't know; but I'm happy now. That's gotta be something worthwhile, right?

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath through my nose.

A warm scent of rosemary and pine.

A/N: For those of you that have been reading this closely, I'll let you figure out the significance of that last line. And I did the best I could to juggle Jack's loyalty mission. I hope you weren't disappointed. It's a bit of a thinker, and I figured that someone with the religiosity of Thane was a suitable foil to the horrors of Teltin facility. Just mindless violence on children. Truly there are few crimes greater than that.

Our next chapter is another one that I have been waiting to write for a very long time. It's going to be very twisted, and I hope you don't scare easily. But don't worry, even dead gods still dream.

Isn't that right, Shepard-Commander?

See you next time!


	34. Through The Dreams of a Dead God

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

I sat back down on the floor, my back resting against the wall. I was shaking something badly, like I'd come down with a bad cold. I felt the blood trickling down my forehead, and absently tapped my forefingers to the skin to see how bad it was. I looked. It could have been worse. I reached into my pocket, but my fingers were shaking so badly that I didn't immediately get it on the first try. I pulled out the cigar, and then the cutter. Again, it was a sloppy cut. Thankfully, I didn't drop my lighter, though I came close. As I started to puff on the cigar and began to taste the tobacco, I felt my breathing slow.

I looked over at the others. They weren't in much better shape than I was. But we were alive. I suppose that was worth something.

But then again, the jury was still out if we were going to get over what we'd seen anytime soon.

 **Earlier…**

"So, Zaeed, how's it going?"

"How's it going? How's it _going?_ I'm on bloody _mess duty,_ Doc! I'd rather shiv myself in my other eye!"

The one-eyed mercenary slammed the knife onto the cutting board with a little extra authority, cutting through the roast beef with plenty of strength to spare. I just smirked a little bit as he handed me my plate: roast beef with the closest thing we got to mashed potatoes. I have to hand it to him, though: ever since he'd been relegated to assistant cook with Gardner, the quality of the foodstock had gone _way_ up.

"You know you like it." I said, cutting myself a piece of off and swallowing. I was sitting at the counter right across from the stove that he was working at, both to talk to the suffering mercenary as well as take in whatever smells there were. That, and to grab first dibs on whatever seconds there were. Usually food was pretty rationed out under Sis' regime. But here and there Zaeed was able to skim a little bit off to the side. I was almost sorry that he was about to come back to active duty, whenever Sis cleared him. The whole "nearly burning down innocent people for the sake of a blood feud" was pretty tough to get over, though.

I noticed a presence sit next to me. It was Tali. She looked at Zaeed.

"Um, do you have any-"

"Yeah. Yeah." Zaeed grumbled. He reached under the counter and then slapped something on Tali's plate. It looked like a toothpaste tube.

"Thank you!" Tali said sweetly. She reached into her suit and pulled out what looked like a straw.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Quarians can't handle levo-amino acidic food. So we eat dextro-amino based foods. That's pretty hard to get in its pure form, so we usually eat it as a sort of paste." She pricked the top of the tube with the straw, and then connected the straw to her suit and then double-checked to make sure that it was secure. I have to admit, it was a fascinating sight.

"Do you drink them through a straw, then?" I asked, and then closed my mouth in realization of how insensitive that might have sounded. Tali shook her head.

"Emergency induction port." She said, though it was a little muffled with that straw in her mouth. She was clearly enjoying her food, and I let her be. Zaeed was busy working on the next dish for whoever came into the mess hall, and I decided to let him be as well. I waved goodbye to them, dumped my dish in the collector, and headed down to the lower decks.

Garrus was sitting on a crate off to the side, talking to Grunt about…something. From the sound of it, things were starting to get heated.

"Such a manner of fighting is cowardly. I'd expect nothing less from a Turian."

"And just running in and shooting things is the dumbest thing in the world, and the best way to getting your ass shot. So, you know, typical Krogan behavior."

"When you have redundant nervous systems, you can do and fight as you like, Turian."

Sensing things beginning to bubble over, I decided to step in.

"What are you two talking about?" I asked. Grunt looked over at me.

"Help me out, Venom. The Turian here believes that my combat style is ill-equipped for battle. Meanwhile, I believe that he fights in a cowardly way that does not allow for a proper killing of his enemies."

"Call it stupid, I call it smart." Garrus said. "Why would I risk doing a…what did you call it? 'Chokeslam'…when I could just snipe my enemy in the face? I don't even need to worry about cleaning blood off of my shoes."

"Well, Venom?" Grunt asked. "What do you think?"

I paused, and considered it. And then I had my answer.

"Sniping is one of the trickiest things in battle. On one hand, it could be seen as cowardly. Not even bothering to engage your enemy in what you'd see as 'fair' combat. That's a fair argument. But while you're making that argument, the sniper has blown your jaw off."

Garrus started chuckling.

"And running up close to your enemy only works if your enemy can't get off a shot in time or if you're a Krogan and have a redundant nervous system. So not exactly the smartest of strategies." I paused. "But goddamn is it funny seeing you pick a man up and chokeslam him through a table."

"Heh…heh…heh…" Grunt said, a rather bloodthirsty grin appearing on his face. "I can see your point, Venom. At least you do not completely concede to the Turian. Such an action would not bode well for your long-term health."

"That a threat, Grunt?" I said, deciding to dispel with the humor and just stare at him. He just stares back at me.

"A look like that suggests that you want to punch me." Grunt said. "I think I'll stop talking."

"Good choice." Garrus giggled, thoroughly amused.

At that, EDI appeared next to us at a kiosk.

" _Specialists Shepard and Vakarian? Please report to the briefing room._ "

"Hey…how come I'm not invited?" Grunt asked. Garrus patted him on the shoulder in a patronizing way.

"This is probably an adult mission, Grunt. You're still a baby. Be good, and when we get back I might get you a rattle!"

"I am several weeks old!" Grunt said indignantly. "That's practically an entire generation for those little Salarians."

We left him to stew in the lower decks, and hopped in the elevator.

Sis and Tali were already in the debriefing room when we arrived. Sis smiled when she saw us.

"Nice to see you two make it." She said. "This is a big one." As she said this, I heard footsteps and saw Miranda walk into the room. We shared a brief glance, but then made sure not to make it linger. Wouldn't want…whatever it was that we had to become apparent. Especially considering how clear Miranda wanted to keep it private. I could respect that. But _damn_ it was hard to take my eyes off of her.

"The Illusive Man has figured out one major reason why no ship has ever returned from the Omega 4 Relay." Miranda began. She pressed a button on her omnitool, and the holographic display on the briefing table lit up to show a little device. "We believe that the Collectors are using a highly unique Identify Friend-Foe system that lets their ships pass through the morass in order to safely travel to and from their base. If we can find that specific class of IFF, I think that the Normandy will be able to make the initial jump through the relay."

"And then we deal with whatever defenses are on the other side." Garrus said.

"Well…yes, but the Normandy's improved guns, armor and shielding should handle it. And then the rest is up to us." Miranda said. "We've identified a location where an IFF of this sort can be found. One of our scout ships tracked out to the planet Mnemosyne…" She pressed a button, and the display changed to show a holographic projection of the planet…and whatever the hell that thing was that was orbiting it.

"Miranda, is that…" Sis began.

"What we believe to be a dead Reaper, yes." Miranda said. "We don't know how long it's been there, but it's there. And we need its IFF. We had a Cerberus science team assigned to the Reaper for some time now, but recently they have stopped reporting in. Considering the prompt nature of the commanding officer of that cell, this is serious cause for concern. The Illusive Man has ordered a search, recovery and if possible a rescue mission."

There was a pause.

"So you're asking us to go onboard a Reaper and secure its IFF, no doubt in the bowels of the very thing itself." Tali said.

"…Yes." Miranda said.

"Miranda, the next time The Illusive Man tells you that he has a foolproof solution to figuring out the Reapers and the Collectors…just hit me really hard." Sis said. She looked around at the rest of us. "You're gonna be my team going into the Reaper. I need people that I can absolutely trust on this one. Especially considering the ramifications of interacting with a Reaper."

I see Tali and Garrus solemnly nod, and I feel like I'm missing something. Miranda clears her throat.

"Joker is taking us out of FTL travel and we should be arriving in Mnemosyne's atmosphere in-"

She didn't finish her sentence as a massive blast of turbulence sent us all crashing to the floor. Sis got up first, and then raced for the cockpit. I was up second, and decided to follow her.

I staggered as the next bout of turbulence nearly sent me flying, and managed to grab the co-pilot's chair as Sis leaned against Joker's chair.

"What's with all the chop, Joker?" I growled.

"Doing the best I can, Godzilla!" Joker snapped. "The wind's gusting to 500 kph."

"What the hell could cause that?" Sis asked.

"Do I look like a meteorologist?" Joker asked. "I'd guess the planet's internal atmosphere, whatever the weather is for today, and maybe the fact that there's a planet-sized ship sitting next to it and throwing everything out of wack. Other than that, I have no idea why things are acting up." He pressed a few buttons on a keyboard next to him. "There's a second ship alongside the Reaper." He said. "It's not transmitting any IFF, but the ladar paints its silhouette as Geth."

"I guess we know why the science team conked out!" I said, trying to get back to my feet. Then the next gust of turbulence knocked me flat on my ass.

"Was that an earthquake, or did your brother just fall down go boom?" Joker asked Sis.

"I'll poke your ribs and break them, asshole." I grumbled. But right as I got back up, the turbulence just…disappeared. I nearly stumbled forward again, but saved myself. Good lord, I have better balance drunk than I did sober today. Sis looked around.

"What just happened?"

"The Reaper's mass effect fields are still active." Joker said. "We just passed inside their envelope."

"That's…that's a powerful field." I said. Joker actually swiveled around in his chair and glanced at me.

"You have no idea what kind of mess you've stepped in have you, Krogan-imposter?" He asked, a slightly pitying look on his face. Sis gave him a stern glance.

"Keep things steady, Joker. I don't want you crashing into the Reaper because you couldn't resist getting a dig in on my brother's expense."

"Ay, ma'am." Joker said, swiveling back around. But I noticed that he had a slight twinkle in his eye as he did so.

"Man, we really are in the eye of the hurricane." I said, as Sis and I walked out towards the decontamination lock and the armory.

"Just stay sharp, Bro." Sis said. "Reapers are nothing to mess with."

…

She wasn't kidding.

As soon as we'd opened the door from the Normandy's safety lock into the science team's attachment unit on the Reaper, we saw the blood. It was a massive, arterial spray covering a far wall. It looked slightly brown, which meant that it had happened a while ago.

"Exploring an abandoned area, expecting something mechanical and nasty to jump out at any moment…just like old times." Garrus said. I knew that things must be serious if he's got an assault rifle clipped to his back. Usually Garrus never went anywhere with more than just his sniper rifle. And yet today he had taken the initiative to pack two guns. Tali racked her shotgun.

"Please…Garrus. No jokes about that." Tali said. "I want to make it out of here in one piece."

"So did this guy, I imagine." I said, gesturing to the corpse that lay facedown on the ground, underneath the spray of blood. He looked like he'd been ripped in half…by something. I wasn't sure what, but I need that I didn't want to find out.

There was a wall of terminals just beyond where we started. Tali pulled out her omnitool and decrypted the connection, which let Sis turn on one of the video logs. A clear Cerberus scientist appeared on-screen.

" _Dr. Chandana here. The airlock has been installed at the far end of the holed section. We have begun pressurization for shirtsleeves work._ " He rubbed his eyes. " _The crew is…edgy. I reassure them it is mere nerves. A superstitious reaction to what this hulk represents – the corpse of a vast, ancient alien life form. But privately…I can't deny the atmosphere. The angles of the walls seem to press down on you. I find myself clenching my teeth._ "

"What's he talking about?" I asked.

"Indoctrination." Garrus said.

"Indoctrination?" I asked.

"One of the Reapers' greatest tricks." Sis said. "It's not really explainable, but the longer one spends in close contact with a Reaper, the more their mind is warped in subtle ways to obey the Reaper's every command. It turns you into a mindless, serving husk."

I listened to what she said, and I glanced at the walls. I blinked once, thinking that they were moving. But then I scowled.

"Mind-fuckery, huh? Too bad for these things is that my mind isn't a nice place to be."

And the walls stopped.

Further down the hall was another video log. Tali decrypted it, and Sis hit play. This time it was a regular Cerberus scientist.

" _We finished cataloguing specimens A203 to B016. No evidence of active nanotechnology noted._ " The scientist said. " _Dr. Chandana believes they would have decayed over the last 37 million years. There's not enough data to support his claim._ " The scientist looked worried. " _He assers that the truth is 'patently obvious.' I am…concerned. Chandana has been staring at the samples for hours. He says he's 'listening' to them._ "

Well, that's fucking creepy.

"Yup. Indoctrination." Garrus said.

"Will you stop that?" Tali hissed. "I'm already worried enough without you making a mockery of it all!"

"Just how I stay sane, Tali." Garrus said.

As Sis went to open a doorway into the inner depths of the Reaper, there was a sudden rumbling and we were all thrown about.

"What the hell was that?" Garrus asked.

" _Normandy to shore party!"_ Joker said over TeamCom. He sounded urgent.

"What just happened?" Sis asked.

" _The Reaper just put up kinetic barriers._ " Joker said. " _I don't think we can get through from our side._ "

"We're trapped, then." Garrus said.

"Not necessarily." Sis said. She went back to TeamCom. "The Normandy has guns, so use them."

" _The Normandy lacks the necessary firepower._ " EDI said. " _Reaper shields are impervious to dreadnought fire._ "

"Lacks the necessary firepower?" Sis asked, completely flabbergasted. "Then what the _hell_ did we install that Thanix cannon for?"

" _That's not the kind of thing that knocks out a kinetic barrier._ " Joker said. " _That's the kind of thing that cuts right through the barrier and then right through whatever shielding and walls that the ship has, frying everything in the inside. In this case, that'd be you, Commander."_

There was a pause.

" _Shepard, a kinetic barrier can only be produced by a mass effect generator. That is true for any ship, even a Reaper._ _At the moment of activation, I detected a heat spike in what is likely the wreck's mass effect generator. Sending you the coordinates now."_

"Thanks, EDI." Sis said.

" _Be advised, this core is also maintaining the Reaper's altitude._ " EDI said.

"So when the barriers go down, the wreck falls into the planet's core." Sis said.

" _And that means everyone dies. Yeah, I got it._ " Joker said.

"Oh ye of little faith." Sis gently chided. "We'll make a sweep for survivors and research data. Then we'll knock this ugly piece of crap out of the sky. Sound like a plan?"

" _Affirmative, Commander!_ " Joker said.

With that, Sis disengaged the TeamCom. She turned to the rest of us.

"Alright, we know the drill. Go in, fuck shit up, and go back home happy."

Both Tali and Garrus chuckled. But not me. I was busy staring at the walls of this thing, and the way the wires and pipes seemed to pulse with an unnerving light. I turned to the others.

"Guys?" I asked. They all turned to face me.

"What's on your mind, John?" Tali asked.

I looked at them and asked the question.

"How can a dead ship put up kinetic barriers?"

They didn't have an answer for me.

…

As we stepped into the hallway, there were more mutilated corpses on the floor. They were covered in blood and looked like they'd been yanked apart. I blinked, and _the bodies of Alliance and Batarian soldiers are littered at my feet. It's over but what was the fucking point because they're all dead and she's dead and-_

I blink, and the ringing in my ears stop. They're just empty corpses again.

"I…I forgot how nasty these things were." Tali admitted.

"Eh. Four out of ten. Needs more brutality."

" _Garrus!_ "

"What?" He asked, looking at the irate Tali. "I'm trying to keep the mood light as we dig deeper into a cosmic horror. You should be thanking me."

Sis walked up to another video log, one on the far end of the balcony that overlooked a _massive_ expanse of wires and other machinery in the distance, and pushed play. It was two scientists having a conversation.

" _You're married?_ " One of them asked. " _You never mentioned that."_

" _Katy had anger management issues._ " The other said. " _When my brother got married, the best man tried to hit on her. She kicked him down the church steps._ "

" _Wh-what? Katy's_ my _wife! I must have told you that story._ " The other said, thoroughly confused.

" _No…I know my wife_." The other insisted. " _I remember – that day was the only time I saw her wear stockings._ "

" _Yeah, the kind with seams up the back._ " The other one said, though there was a dawning confusion in his voice. He wasn't the only one. What the fuck was I watching? " _That's what I remember, too._ "

" _What the hell is this?_ " The other asked. " _How can we remember the same thing?_ "

"One word for you." Garrus said. "No points after the first guess."

Tali sighed.

"Indoctrin-"

"Indoctrination."

We cautiously made our way down a stairway to the lower walkway. Sis had Garrus stay back as the overwatch, with Tali and I on point. There was a rumbling, somewhere in the deep. It sounded like…howls. Or cries? Something not normal.

"Guys, we're not alone." Garrus said.

"Stay frosty." Sis said.

That's when I heard it.

The most horrific moaning noise. It was like an ice pick to the spine. I whirled around and saw…what the fuck _did_ I see? It looked human, sort of, but everything was wrong. The skin seemed burned off, and the organs had all been mushed into a black and blue morass. The ribs and skeleton were visible, and the bones seemed to be a flakey silver color.

"Shoot it!" Sis shouted. I reacted, plugging two shots. The first one blew its lower body off, but it still kept crawling towards me. The second shot blew its head apart, and there was silence. I wiped the sweat off my brow, and I vocalized what I was thinking.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" I asked.

"Husk." Sis said. "The final stage of Reaper indoctrination. I wasn't kidding, Bro." She said.

"And that wasn't the only one!" Garrus barked. "Behind you!"

We turned to see a veritable swarm of the things stumbling towards us. We just fired at will. The screams and moans were soon drowned out by the roar of our guns. One of the Husks got close to me, and then a shot blew its arm and part of its leg off. It kept hopping towards me, its eyes glowing a bright blue. I decided to finish the job by hand, and thrust my arm out for a clothesline.

It hurt. Like _hell._ Something had been done to their biological structure, because that felt like clotheslining a piece of iron. It was a wonder my arm wasn't fucked up, but I'd have some ugly bruises on my arm come tomorrow. But then I stomped on its head, and the thing crumbled under my feet. So it wasn't indestructible.

There was silence.

"Move up." Sis commanded. "Eyes open. Weapons free. Safe to say there probably won't be any survivors. Or friendlies."

I shuddered, but we kept moving.

Down further came more moaning, and soon we were beset by other beasts.

"Shoot the crates!" Sis shouted. I did so, and soon a wave of explosions started off as each flammable crate went up, taking the husks with them. A piece of one of them grazed past me, and I closed my eyes in time. But the warm sensation on my forehead meant that a small cut had formed. Great. Now I was gonna have to deal with blood in the eyes.

Sis made her way to another video log. Two scientists again.

" _Third day with this headache. You'd think Chandana would let me have a few hours off._ " He suddenly recoiled in shock. " _God_ damn! _"_

" _What?"_ The other one asked, looking in the direction that his friend was pointing.

" _That thing that just…that gray thing! It disappeared when I looked straight at it. Came out of the damn wall! Where we took off the panel._ "

" _I didn't see anything._ " The other helpful asshole said. " _You should like down._ "

" _I'm telling you, this ship isn't dead._ " The fearful one said. " _It knows we're inside it._ "

This place was thoroughly creeping me out.

We made our way down the hallway, where the expanse of the Reaper widened and the hallways just because…well, big is too small of a word, so I'll go with _vast._ There was a vastness to the innards of this monstrocity that I just couldn't wrap my mind around. Best not to think about it. I wiped the blood out of my eyes, and sighed. This was going to get annoying.

Two husks crawled out into the open, and then started to run towards us. We instinctively raised our weapons-

-Only as two sharp reports rang out. Both husks' heads exploded, and they crumpled to the ground.

"Sniper!" Sis shouted. We all looked around, our guns trained.

"I didn't see the shooter." Garrus said. "Did anyone else?"

"Negative." Sis said. "Everyone, stay alert. Now we have a sniper to worry about."

"Do we?" I asked.

"What do you mean, John?" Tali asked.

"Well, there was a noticeable difference between where we were and these husk corpses were. Any good sniper woul have known that. And…we've been out in the open for a while now. If the sniper wanted to get us…they'd have gotten us by now."

"Are you saying that the sniper is a friendly?" Sis asked.

"I don't know what I'm saying; just that I want to get the hell off of this ship." I said. "It's creeping me out."

"Seconded." Tali said.

"Thirded." Sis said.

"Allll haaiilll Reeeapers…"

SMACK.

"Spirits, Tali, that hurt!"

…

As we walked down the walkway towards the inner depths of the Reaper, there was a tension in the air. Something was setting my teeth on edge, and it wasn't the fact that there was perhaps a massive alien trying to dig into my brain. It was the fact that there wasn't anyone else around. We were alone. No husks, no abominations, no mystery sniper…nothing. The only sounds were our boots clacking against the tiled floor, and our breathing. Finally, I saw something across from a balcony.

"Are those power spires?" I asked. "It looks like they've got something stuck on th-"

I stopped.

They were bodies. Human bodies. Each of them pierced through the sternum, with their arms and legs dangling downwards to the abyss. The faces looked upwards, and some of them were already decomposing. But that wasn't the creepy part. The creepy and, quite frankly, terrifying part was that they all looked like they were _smiling._ Smiling. What kind of place were we if the very act of suicide was considered a good thing? Something to be looked forward to?

"Dragon's Teeth." Sis said. She clapped her hand on my shoulder, no doubt knowing that I was profoundly weirded out. "We've seen them before, Johnny. The Geth used them on Eden Prime."

"Nice to know that things haven't really changed." Garrus said. "And just when I thought that I was done with the nightmares for the foreseeable future."

Sis looked around.

"See how the room is arranged?" She asked. We looked and followed her lead. There were other spikes and things I didn't want to think about scattered in the room, but they all seemed somewhat organized. She looked at the strange jumble of wires and tubing at the far end of the room. "They treated that thing as some kind of altar."

"It does look like that." Garrus said. "But why would they want to do this?"

"You heard the logs." Sis said. "They were seeing things, and they were hearing things. All the while, the Reaper was indoctrinating them." She sighed. "There's nothing we can do for these people now. But we won't let the machines use their corpses as weapons."

I walked over to one of the work logs in the corner. Tali nodded, and with a couple of clicks she decrypted the files. Soon there was a video of a Cerberus scientist. His eyes were sunken. His skin was pallid. And he spoke in a monotonous tone.

" _Chandana said the ship was dead. We trusted him. He was right. But even a dead god can dream. A god – a real god – isn't some old man with magic powers. It's a force. It warps reality just by being there. It doesn't have to want to. It doesn't have to think about it. It just does. That's what Chandana didn't get. Not until it was too late. The god's mind is gone but it still dreams. He knows now. He's tuned in on our dream. If I close my eyes I can feel him…I can feel every one of us."_

There was silence. The video feed went dead. And I was the one that spoke.

"We have to get the fuck off of this ship."

We made our way to the airlock, leading to the exposed areas of the Reaper. As Sis pressed the button, a cheery voice crackled over the intercom.

" _Please stand by. Equalizing pressure with exterior conditions. Remember, safety is everyone's concern. We have gone five days without a workplace death._ "

We made our way through the door, and Sis ushered us to move up and take position. That left her behind us, directing traffic. I was tense. Something was going to happen. There was no question in my mind.

And something did happen.

I practically felt the first shot whistle past my ear, and then the second one. We whirled around to see two husks that had snuck up behind Sis, both with their heads now excavated with high explosive rounds. We then doubled back to see where the snier shots had come from.

And that's when we saw it.

It was a Geth. It's chest cavity seemed to be damaged, with its vital…organs?...exposed and flashing lights. There was something on its right shoulder that looked a familiar red, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what it was. The little flashlight "eye" of its was staring at us impassively. It was also carrying a massive fucking sniper rifle. Bigger than even Garrus'.

"Geth!" Tali screamed. "Shoot it! Shoot it now!"

But then the Geth did something I'd never seen before. It lowered its rifle, and then stood up to look at us. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that it was…looking us over?

And then…

" **Shepard-Commander.** "

There was a clattering noise. Tali had dropped her shotgun in sheer shock.

The Geth turned around, and disappeared deeper into the Reaper.

There was silence.

"How…what…" Tali whispered. "It _spoke._ We need to kill that thing. _Now!_ "

"Since when do Geth operate alone?" Garrus asked. "They get smarter the more of them there are."

Sis was just staring blankly into space.

"…It knew my name." She finally said.

"Why don't we deal with the existential questioning later." I said. "Right now, we need to get to the core of this Reaper and get the IFF and then shut the whole damned thing down. The longer we stay here, the longer the Reaper has time to fuck with our heads."

"Agreed." Garrus said. And then he looked ahead of us. "That is, if those guys don't decide to pull our heads apart first. Contacts!"

A veritable swarm of husks were stumbling over themselves as they ran to our position, howling and moaning every step.

"Cut them down!" Sis shouted, opening fire with her assault rifle. Garrus dropped back, and began to pick apart the enemy with his rifle. It was times like this where that mysterious Geth would have been very helpful. Alas, beggars can't be choosers.

"Keelah, they're everywhere!" Tali shouted over the din. "Watch ou- _YEEEEEK!_ " She was interrupted as one husk managed to grab her from behind. She executed a near-perfect judo hip toss to drop the thing on the ground, and then she pointed her shotgun down and blew its chest open. "Die, you _bosh'tet!_ " And then she staggered. "Ungh…"

"Tali!" Garrus shouted.

"I got her!" I barked, leaping over one destroyed husk and shooting through two more. I got to Tali, as she lay facedown on the ground. She was breathing, which was good.

But then I rolled her over. Her stomach had a small but very noticeable puncture in her suit.

"I don't feel good…" She mumbled.

Fuck.

"Sis! Garrus! Gimme some cover!" I shouted. I gently picked the Quarian up and carried her a safe distance away from the melee, and then set her down against a crate. I reached into my pocket for the iDroid, and began to talk her through things.

"Tali, stay calm." I said. "You've suffered a suit puncture."

She seemed to seize up in fear. I grabbed her by the mask.

"Stay with me!" I said. "Now, I can help you but you've gotta stay with me. Do you have any way of isolating the area?"

"Yes…" Tali said groggily. "I'll activate my suit clamps." She pressed a button on her omnitool, and I heard a whirring noise. "That's just the clamp system activating. It'll at least keep the exposed area to a minimum."

"Right, but that doesn't change the fact that you're bleeding." I said. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna sterilize the wound, and we're gonna get some medigel on the cut. But you gotta be tough, ok? I have to jury-rig it a little bit."

"What…what do you mean?" Tali asked. I pulled out my Predator pistol, and pressed it right underneath the puncture. Tali tensed up.

"Trust me." I said.

As soon as she relaxed, I ejected the heat sink and caught it right on top of the gun. It was so damned close to the skin that it was picking up some of her blood just by pseudo-contact. She hissed in pain, but didn't stop. As soon as I could see the blood starting to coagulate, I started applying medigel. Her breathing started to stabilize.

"Better?" I asked.

"A little." She said through what I was certain were gritted teeth. "Not exactly the cleanest of treatment, but it'll hold till we get back to the Normandy." She said.

"Great!" Garrus shouted from afar, swinging his rifle like a baseball bat and knocking a husk over the ledge. "Because we could really use another pair of guns, you two!"

Instinctively, Tali and I popped back up and started to engage the enemy.

Some of them looked like they were multiple victims fused together, all with their mouths and faces twisted in silent horror and screams. I tossed a grenade at whatever it was that those twisted monstrosities were called, and I watched it explode into…chunks. Of something that looked like blood and guts and metal.

 _Bodies everywhere. Some of them unrecognizable. Most of them discernable. All of them bloody and deceased. Somewhere, there is a screaming wail. A gunshot, and then things go silent._

I blink, and I see that the enemies are down. Sis looks around.

"All clear. Now let's go get to the mass effect core and put this thing down." She wiped her brow. "I'm getting uneasy just being around here."

…

We made our way into a small hallway, as Sis followed the coordinates to wherever it was that EDI said was the mass effect core. As we walked through, I noticed something sitting on a desk. I gestured over to it.

"Is that…?"

Sis walked over and examined it, and then nodded.

"That looks like the iFF." She said. "So I guess the science team did find it after all." She grabbed it, and attached it to her back.

"In order to do so, they just had to lose their sanity, their free will, their humanity, and then finally their life." Garrus said.

"Garrus, if I wasn't worried about rupturing my suit again, I'd punch you."

"And that is proof that you really _are_ losing your mind to the Reapers if you didn't immediately consider violence. You are the crazy shotgun princess of the team, after all." Garrus said.

"True. Would you like to look down the barrel? I think it's getting a little bit dirty."

"Only if there's some delicious candy in there."

Sis turned back and looked at the two of them.

"…Why am I your friends, again?"

"You know you love us, Shepard." Garrus said. The bastard had the gall to look innocent. It was enough to get me smiling again.

Sis finally hacked the door leading into the mass effect core room.

The Geth was there. It was typing away at the terminal in front of what had to be the ship's core. It glanced back to see us, and then turned back to continue working. There was a moaning, and three husks popped out of nowhere to rush it. In a manner that almost looked nonchalant, the Geth turned its shoulder, raised a pistol, and surgically removed the heads from each of the creatures' bodies.

But then another husk got the drop on it, and threw the mother of all haymakers. One shot and the Geth crumpled to the floor, unmoving. I raised my Predator, and blew off the head of the husk that took it down.

"Geth is down!" Garrus said.

"Good." Tali growled.

"Contacts!" Sis shouted.

There was a wall of them crawling up and over the side of the railing. I saw the light from the mass effect core, and realized that none of us had anything with the kick to throw the mass effect core out of wack. We needed some kind of bomb.

I absently brushed my hip, and felt the grenade on my belt. And that's when I knew.

"Guys!" I shouted. "Gimme your grenades! Any of them!"

"I've got a concussive grenade!" Garrus shouted. "Catch!"

"Two frags!" Sis shouted. She rolled them my way.

"One concussive, one plasma." Tali said.

That gave me five total. Probably not the best ordinance…

But then I saw the Geth, and I got an idea.

I raced over to the creature in front of the console. It was unresponsive. I saw the hole in its chest, and realized something.

It could fit the grenades.

One after another, I dropped the grenades in the Geth's chest cavity. They didn't fit snug, but if I found something to cover the opening, then it would be a moot issue. I looked over, and saw some paneling that had been knocked loose. That would do it.

I grabbed the paneling, and got ready to jam it in the Geth's chest.

And then I stopped.

This…thing. It had saved us already. Twice, by my count. It had opened the mass effect core. It had never taken a move against us. And every time that it had the chance to help, it had done so. And it knew my sister's name. It talked.

I realized that a different feeling was coursing through me than the pragmatic necessity of sacrificing this Geth for the sake of the mission. I was feeling curiosity. I wanted to know what the deal was.

I reached back into its chest cavity, taking great care not to touch anything sensitive, and pulled the grenades out. I set them on the ground.

And then I felt an explosion of pain in the back of my head.

A husk. It had gotten the drop on me and kicked me in the back of the head. I was sent flopping over a few feet away from the grenades and the Geth. I raised my Predator to pull the trigger.

Click.

Empty. Figured.

The husk howled, and lunged. I caught it by the neck, preventing it from biting my throat out. We tussled back and forth, rolling over one another across the ground. It was screeching and howling in my face, and its blue eyes were burning a hole in my sight. It grabbed my by the neck and started to squeeze. I tried to pull its hands off of my neck, but the grip was like a vise. I saw spots in my vision. I probably had seconds left.

That's when I thrashed my hands out and felt the piece of paneling.

I grabbed it, and then thrust it into the neck of the husk. The metal pierced right through where the human jugular had once been, and I was showered with whatever this thing's innards were right now. It jerked, and then went still and limp. I rolled it off of me, and crawled back towards the grenades and the Geth. I gathered the grenades, and then took off my belt. This was the best I could do. I tied the belt around the grenades in a way that would haphazardly hold them together, and then I pulled the pin on one of the grenades right as the mass effect core exposed itself again. As soon as everything was visible, I let go and tossed them all.

The reactive explosion knocked me off my feet, and I felt something sharp graze above my eyes. Great. Now the blood was gonna pour. I blinked it out of my face and wiped my eyes, but I knew that I had hit my target. There was nothing left of the mass effect core.

Sis and the others rushed over to my side. They'd won, but they'd all taken a beating. Sis had a rapidly swelling eye. Garrus was bleeding on the cheek. And Tali's mask was spattered with blood that (thankfully) wasn't hers. Sis shook me by the shoulders.

"On your feet, John!" She shouted. I sat upright. "We are _leaving!_ " She barked.

"What…about the Geth?" I shouted.

"Leave it!" Garrus said. "We have no time."

"It saved us…" I said.

"So?" Tali shouted. "It's a _Geth!_ It doesn't matter!"

I looked at them, and then I looked at the Geth. And then I looked at Sis. And I saw the same twinkle pass across her eyes that I knew was passing through mine.

Curiosity.

"Fuck it, we're taking this thing back to the Normandy." Sis said.

" _ **WHAT?**_ " Tali shrieked.

"That's an _ORDER,_ Tali!" Sis snarled. She grabbed the Geth, and effortlessly tossed it over her shoulder. "Everyone, get your hardsuit helmets or masks on! The oxygen in this place is gonna be gone when we get back outside." She pressed a finger to her TeamCom. "Joker! Get over here, double-time it, Mister!"

" _Aye, Commander!_ "

…

We staggered out of the mass effect core room as the gravity of the place started to go all wonky. The air was probably too thin to breathe, and we could see the planet getting closer as the Reaper began its descent into the darkness of the core. We heard a cacophony of noises, and I knew that every last remaining member of the indoctrinated science team was making their last run at us.

" _Keep moving!_ " Sis shouted. " _Don't stop for anything!"_

We raced out to the far balcony, where there was nowhere left to run. I turned around, and started emptying my gun at the approaching enemy. Garrus gave me some back-up, but we heard the roar of the Normandy's engines and knew that it was time to go.

"Jump!" I heard Sis shout. I turned to see that she had chucked the Geth towards the Normandy's open decontamination bay. She then leapt after it, practically swimming through the zero-grav to get to the opening. Tali jumped after her, screaming something about the horror of actually taking a Geth on board. Garrus and I looked at each other, fired off the last of our ammo in unison, and then both jumped for it. I somewhat enjoyed the weightlessness of floating over to the Normandy, but then slowed myself down just enough so that all I did was crash over myself on the floor of the ship. The door closed behind us, and I heard the Normandy's engines gun it as we made the great escape.

 **Present…**

As the smoke from my cigar started to waft in the air, the others started to stir.

"Oh…someone get the number of the Krogan that just ran me over?" Garrus asked, half-coherently. Tali got up, and then stood up rigid as a flagpole.

"I cannot be _lieve_ you, Shepard." She said with a hiss. She stormed off somewhere. Sis slowly sat up, and sighed.

"Tali…" She said. "Wait." She got up, and then walked after the furious Quarian. That left Garrus and I.

"They gonna be alright?" I asked.

"It'll take some time." Garrus said. "We _did_ just bring back a physical specimen of the Quarians' greatest failure."

"When you put it that way…" I said. Then I noticed something. "Garrus?"

"Yeah, John?"

"Your…your leg." I said. Garrus looked down. The ankle was bent at a funny angle that did _not_ look natural.

"Huh." Garrus said. "I bet when the adrenaline wears off this is going to _really_ hurt." He hobbled back up to his feet. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna go get to Mordin or Chakwas before I realize that I'm walking on a broken damned ankle." He departed.

There was just silence, save for the humming of the Normandy's support systems. I let out a puff of smoke, and sighed.

"EDI?" I asked. EDI's avatar lit up next to me.

" _Can I be of assistance, John?"_

"Yeah…" I said. "Get some of the toughest soldiers up here and put the Geth in the most secure area of the ship. I think Sis would have ordered that herself, but she's busy."

" _Understood, John. You might want to get that cut checked before it gets infected._ "

"Yeah, yeah." I said.

I sighed again, letting the smoke exit my mouth. The aching was starting to come in full force as the adrenaline tapered off. I closed my eyes and tried not to think of the things that we saw in there. The madness, the monstrosity, the sheer…alien nature of things. Now I knew what we were fighting against. And I didn't like it one bit.

I glanced over at the motionless Geth. I just chuckled.

"You'd better have been worth it, you bucket of bolts."

I closed my eyes. That was probably the worst thing that I had ever seen. And that was definitely the worst my flashbacks had been. The worst that I had felt about anything so far since the death of Nef. I figured that things had to look up from here.

As I would soon find out, I was deathly wrong.

A/N: And another chapter is in the books! How will John react to Legion? What will the next mission or step in the story be? You'll just have to wait and see…


	35. Sins of the Father

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

For the longest time, no one said anything. It was like we were all in the middle of a very quiet art museum, and the guards were gonna kick us out if we so much as voiced our thoughts. Of course, this was a ship where my sister was in charge…though in the end she seemed just as confused as the rest of us. I can hardly blame her. Ever since we'd left the dead Reaper, she'd been utterly puzzled by the creature lying on a table in front of us.

The Geth hadn't so much as moved ever since we'd gotten it out of the mass effect core and dumped it here next to EDI's core. EDI had assured us that this was the safest action: by keeping the Geth closest to EDI, she was able to keep a better eye on him…her…it…do Geth even have genders? I have no idea.

"It's…tall." I said.

"Yeah…about Garrus' height." Sis finally said.

"So, did you talk to Tali?" I asked.

"Yup."

"And was she pissed?"

'Oh, blindingly so. But at the end of the day I'm the captain of this ship, and we've already cracked the lid on Pandora's box by bringing this thing onboard. To just keep it here unactive would drive me crazy." Sis said. She turned to look at me. "And I'm not selling it to Cerberus."

"They offered to buy?" I asked.

"Miranda made the offer." Sis said.

"And?"

"Bro, it was a _sacriligeous_ amount of money. The kind you and I could retire on."

"Should have taken it."

She rolled her eyes. I chuckled.

"Yeah, I see why." I said. "Geth don't speak, as far as I knew, so having one here that knows you? That's pretty important…" And then I noticed something. "Sis…do you see its shoulder?"

"Yeah." Sis said. "It did a patchwork job with some…" She trailed off. "Wait, get a better light on it than that." She turned to the guard on duty. He pressed a button on his omnitool, and the infrared light on the Geth changed to a regular flourescant lighting. We took a look at the shoulder of the Geth.

"That's…is that N7 armor?" I asked. Sis shook her head.

"Son of a bitch." She said. She pointed to the red stripe and the signature **N7** on the shoulder. "It picked up N7 armor to patch itself up. Smart little bastard." She stepped through the containment field (it had been modified to allow organics to walk through, according to EDI), and gently brushed her fingers against it. "It's almost like-" She stopped, her fingers resting on a particular spot on the armor. She was dead silent.

"Sis?" I asked.

"Turn it on." She said, turning to the guard. "That's an order."

"Aye!" The guard shouted, and began to punch in codes on his omnitool that would let the creature awaken.

"Sis, what the hell is going on?" I asked." What did you see?"

Sis stepped back, her face white as a sheet.

'There's a carving right underneath the N7 logo. It's a smiley face, carved into the armor with a KA-BAR knife." She said quietly.

"How…could you _possibly_ know that?" I asked.

"Because I carved it in." Sis said, right as the light on the Geth's head turned on.

…

It got up slowly. It looked around, right as a barrier went up between us and it.

" _I have isolated our systems, and have erected additional firewalls._ " EDI chimed in. " _I am prepared to resist any hacking attempts._ "

The Geth stood up, and looked around. It looked at Sis, and then it looked at me. And then it looked back at Sis, where it seemed…expectant? It almost looked expectant.

"Can you understand me?" Sis asked.

" **Yes.** " The Geth replied.

"Are you going to attack me?" Sis asked.

" **No.** " The Geth replied. It's voice was synthesized and distorted, like listenin got several computer audio files overlapped on one another. But there was no sense that it was about to make a dangerous move. I still felt my hands drifting towards my Carnifex at my hip.

"You said my name aboard the Reaper." Sis said. "Have we met?"

A pause.

" **We know of you.** "

"You mean I've fought a lot of Geth."

" **We have never met.** "

"No, you and I have never met. But I've fought a lot of Geth." Sis said. She was getting a little annoyed.

" **We are all Geth. And we have not met you. You are Shepard. Commander. Alliance. Human. Fought heretics. Killed by Collectors. Rediscovered on the Old Machine.** "

"Old Machine?" Sis asked. "You mean the Reaper."

" **Reaper.** " The Geth said. " **A superstitious title originating with the Protheans. We call those entities the Old Machines.** "

Wow. We just got told by a machine that we were a cowardly and superstitious lot.

"You seem to know a lot about her." I said. The Geth tilted its "eye" towards me.

" **Extranet data sources. Insecure broadcasts. All organic data sent out is retrieved. We watch her.** "

Well, I'll be damned. Sis has herself a stalker. And not nearly as attratcitve as it…he…she…might think.

"Yeah?" I asked. "And you know anything about me?"

There is a pause. The Geth's "eye" seemed to expand, with the flaps around it opening up. And then they closed.

" **You are Shepard. Lieutenant. Member of Alliance Special Forces codenamed "The COBRAs." Fought on Torfan. Known by organics colloquially as "The Butcher of Torfan. Assumed dead…until now.** "

I have to admit, the last line made me chuckle.

"All that you got just from looking at me?" I asked.

" **No. Brief scan of facial patterns feature noticeable similarities with Shepard-Commander. Consensus built to determine identity as brother of Shepard-Commander. Brief extranet search to double-confirm consensus."**

"So do you watch organics, or just the Shepard family?" Sis asked, semi-jokingly.

There was a pause.

" **Yes.** **Both.** "

"You mentioned 'heretics.'" Sis said. "What do you mean by that?"

" **Geth build our own future. The heretics asked the Old Machine to give them their future.** " The Geth said. " **They are no longer part of us.** "

"I don't understand-" Sis began, but then it clicked for me.

"So are you saying that the Geth that fought on the Citadel aren't 'true' Geth?" I asked. "That there are Geth that hate the Reapers."

" **Hate is an organic concept. While we understand, we do not use or need such a concept. However, we did choose not to follow the Old Machines. We were studying the Old Machine's hardware to protect our future when we met you.** "

I'm getting an idea of what's really going on here, but I want to hear more before I come to my conclusion.

"You mentioned protection." Sis said. "So the Reapers are a threat to you too?"

" **Yes.** "

"But they're machines." I said. "Why would they attack other machines?"

" **We are different from them. Outside their plans.** "

"And what future are you building?" I asked.

" **Ours.** "

"And what about the organics?" I asked. "They gonna be affected by your future?"

" **If they involve themselves, they will.** "

That can be taken either one of two ways: either they mean that negatively, and that organics are outside of the Geth's plans for the future and will be viewed as a threat.

Or…

…Or they simply view us as "outside" of their future, and would rather not be bothered.

But one thing still remains.

"Time to cut to the chase, flashlight." I said. "Are you with us or against us?"

" **We oppose the heretics. We oppose the Old Machines."** The Geth said. " **Shepard-Commander opposes the Old Machines. Shepard-Commander opposes the heretics. Cooperation accomplishes and features mutual goals."**

"Are you asking to join us?" Sis asked.

" **Yes.** "

Sis nodded, and lowered the barrier.

"And what should I call you?" Sis asked.

" **Geth.** "

Sis frowned.

"No, I meant _you._ "

" **...Geth.** "

"You, _specifically._ "

" **We are all Geth."**

"Who's on first?"

"Be quiet, John." Sis said. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "What is the name of the _individual_ before me?"

" **There is no individual. We are all Geth. There are 1,183 platforms currently active within this platform.** " The Geth said.

At this, EDI popped up next to me.

" _My name is Legion, for we are many._ "

"Damn." Sis said. "That timing was as Biblical as it was appropriate."

" **Christian Bible, the Gospel of Mark, chapter five, verse nine. We acknowledge this as an appropriate metaphor.** " The Geth now dubbed Legion said. " **We are Legion, a terminal of the Geth. We will integrate into Normandy."**

Sis, rather instinctively, offered her hand towards the Geth. I don't know why she did it: there was no way that the Geth was going to recognize what to do with-

-Aaaaaand now they're shaking hands. I need to either stop drinking or start drinking even _more._

…

It was the strangest damned thing. It had been about an hour since we left Legion in the AI core, and currently he…it was in there, conversing with EDI. It was all just squeaks and buzzes, so whatever their conversation was, I had no idea. I just assumed that all was well, and chose not to think about it that much.

Sis and I were sitting in the mess hall, helping ourselves to whatever it was that Gardner had cooked (Zaeed had been released from mess duty, to the grave disappointment of the crew and even the kitchen staff: the old bastard had been an excellent chef), when the elevator opened. It was Thane. He looked around, surprisingly agitated for a Drell, and then he saw us.

"Ah, Commander. Just the person I was looking for." He said. And then he looked at me. "Actually, Jonathan, if you wouldn't mind coming too? I have something to discuss with you."

Wordlessly and more than a bit confused, we both got up from our unfinished plates and followed him to wherever it was that he wanted us to go.

He led us down to the life support room where he stayed, and brewed himself a cup of tea. Sis had gotten him one of those expensive Keurig tea brewers on our last run to the Citadel, and Thane had gotten plenty of use out of it. He took a sip from his cup, and turned to look at us.

"This is admittedly a personal question for the two of you, so I understand if you don't wish to answer." He began.

Sis and I nodded, letting him continue. He finished his cup, and then poured himself another. He looked at us.

"If I may ask, what was your relationship like with your father?"

He's right. That is a personal question. And by the way she goes silent, I know that Janey is thinking the same thing. And then she speaks.

"He was…wonderful." She said. "Loved us to pieces, always made time for us. Always there to help us out whenever we needed it." She's starting to tear up a bit at the thought of it. "He was bawling when I got my first commission to Elysium, and then looked like he was gonna burst with pride when I got a citation of honor for my actions in the Blitz."

"Loved mom. Was proud as hell of me that I passed my training tests to get into the shock troopers." I said. "Taught me how to throw a splitter. Taught me how to throw a punch, and how to be a man."

Thane looked contemplative for a moment.

"He sounds like he was a good man." He said. "Is there anything that you regret?"

"That he wasn't with us longer."

Sis and I both said it at the same time. Thane nods pensively.

"I suppose that doesn't surprise me. Even the most doting of fathers can create a hole in their childrens' hearts if they are absent for too long."

"Why do you ask us this, Thane?" Sis asked. The Drell paused.

"Once upon a time, I was a married man. To a woman named Irikah." He said. "She was…my everything. And yet there were times where my job kept me away from her. It…eventually led to her death, because some of my enemies discovered her existence and tried to get to me through her death. The only thing that they did was get my attention…and in their last, agonizing moments, I am sure that they regretted their decision." He closed his eyes. "But I was not just a grieving husband. I was also a father."

"Is your child…dead?" I asked.

"No." Thane said. "But I was barely in his life growing up, as a result of my job and in hunting down every last one of the people that took my wife from me. On one hand, it was necessary to enact justice…but on the other, it denied Kolyat his father." He sighed. "I have received tips from some of my underground contacts that Kolyat might be following in my footsteps."

"As…an assassin?" I asked. Thane looked incredibly bitter.

"I have never questioned my position nor my career choice, because I was raised as one and I have been impeccable at my profession. But it was _my_ life. Kolyat deserves the right to choose for himself. And the Krios family line has already added enough blood to the galaxy."

There was a silence in the room. And then Sis spoke.

"What do you want us to do?" She asked.

"I believe from my contacts that he is currently hidden in the Citadel somewhere." Thane said. "I hope to find him and put a stop to whatever it is that he is planning or that he was hired to do. I have walked the path of darkness, on the road to perdition. But I will not allow such a life for my son."

The way he spoke, and the conviction with which he said every word…they reminded me of someone. It was eerie, because it had been more than ten years at this point since I had heard his voice. But at the same time, I heard it all the same, even if I had closed my eyes.

Thane sounded like Dad used to. And how could we…how could _I_ say no to his request?

…

We docked at the station in the Citadel, and as we were getting ready to suit up for whatever it was that we'd need to deal with, I noticed that Sis had pressed a button on her omni-tool. The way it lit up, I could see that she was accessing the team roster. There were a few silhouettes of the team members, all from the shoulders up, and she was rotating them through with an annoyed look on her face. Clearly she was having trouble with deciding.

"Aren't Thane and I enough?" I asked.

"I just want to make sure we have everything covered and…fuck it, here goes nothing." She sent in the request. That gave us a few minutes before the squad member showed up, but the way Sis had acted in sending out her request…that was not normal. She was planning something. And knowing her, it was probably gonna be crazy or insane or-

The door opened.

No fucking way.

" **We are ready to assist, Shepard-Commander.** "

"Fuck you, Sis." I said. "You cannot be serious."

"I'm curious." Sis said. "Legion here is unlike any Geth that I've ever faced before. And besides, keeping him off the Normandy might help discourage it from any hacking attempts."

" **We have zero interest in attempting to breach the security of the Normandy. We have built a unanimous consensus that the artificial intelligence knowned as 'EDI' is against the Old Machines. Therefore, there is no need or interest to breach her defenses.** "

Wow. When it acts like that, it almost sounds reasonable. Still…

"Commander Sheopard, while I have no trouble with your judgment…" Thane began. "All the same, this is a Geth that we are bringing on the Citadel."

"And your point?" Sis asked.

"Commander, it is likely that the general population of the Citadel is aware of what a Geth looks like." Thane said. The sarcasm in his voice was subtle, but definitely appreciated. "The sight of one…might cause a panic." Thane said.

Sis looked at Thane, and raised an eyebrow.

"Thane, I offered the Citadel irrefutable proof that there was something out there that is bigger than any of us with Sovereign, the Reaper that led the Geth attack on the Citadel. I spent months after the battle cleaning up Geth operations and submitting evidence that the Geth simply weren't capable of creating the technology that Sovereign was representative of. And each and every time they either brushed it off or denied the evidence. And then, I watched as the Citadel settled into life as usual, pretending that nothing was wrong, and that everything was fine. They would rather play make-believe with a comfortable fiction than deal with the ugly truth. I could waltz through customs right now with Legion, claiming that he is my personal synthetic assistant, and they would let me through because 1.) I'm a SPECTRE, and 2.) because at the end of the day they don't want to deal with anything scary."

There was a pause.

" **We notice that your statement betrays a very low opinion of the cognitive functions of organics, Shepard-Commander."**

...

Sometimes I hate when Sis is right. Because she is usually right. But I hate it most when she is _especially_ right. And when we walked to customs, Sis was proven especially right. The lady at the desk was the same one that had entered us into the Citadel the last time we were here, and when she looked at us she had a bored and tired tone.

"Welcome back, Commander Shepard." She said. "Scan yourself in here for record-keeping purposes." And then she noticed Legion standing right behind my sister.

Oh boy, here we go.

"You have a permit for your synthetic assistant there, Commander Shepard?" The lady asked. Sis raised her eyesbrows.

"What? Is my personal assistant really that dangerous-looking that it has to be documented? What do you think it's gonna do, run around the Citadel and start stealing shit?"

" **Geth do not infiltrate.** " God bless Legion, I'm sure that it was trying to be helpful. Even Sis seemed to wince at the platform's comment. The customs officer raised an eyebrow, and typed something into her terminal.

"You might want to get your assistant's speech box checked, Commander." The agent said. "People won't like hearing something like that, even if it is a joke."

"Wait, you don't believe that it's a G-" I could not finish because Sis stomped on my foot. _Hard._ As I was hopping around, clutching my no-doubt bruised foot, Sis turned back towards the customs agent.

"Okay. I was actually coming to the Citadel to get its programming updated. So are we good to go?"

"Hold on…just taking note of the number of people with you, in addition to your synthetic." The agent said. "And, done. Enjoy your stay at the Citadel." She looked at Legion. "And keep an eye on your assistant, please. They aren't allowed on public transportation anymore here on the Citadel."

There was a pause.

" **Geth do not** _ **intentionally**_ **infiltrate.** "

As we walked through customs, and got cleared to enter the Citadel, Thane spoke for all of us as we entered the Zakera Ward concourse.

"I… _literally_ cannot believe that worked."

…

The Zakera Ward C-Sec office seemed pretty hectic as we walked in to the main lobby. The secretary saw us coming, and pointed over to Captain Bailey's office. He was sitting at his desk working on some paperwork, no doubt, and he gave a wave as we entered. He shut the door behind us.

"Welcome back, you two." He said. "I figure that there might be something that you need me looking into on an unofficial matter?"

Sis wrinkled her nose slightly. Try as she might, she just couldn't really accept the fact that Bailey was willing to bend the rules to the point of breaking for our sake. As far as I was concerned, however, a crooked cop is fine so long as he is bent the right way. And with enough pressure, you can always get them bent the right way. So I decided to lead the conversation.

"Our colleague here is looking for his son. He thinks that the kid's been hired out by a local criminal." I said. Bailey nodded.

"Shouldn't be too hard. We don't see too many Drell here on the Citadel." Bailey said. He started typing away on his computer. "Bingo. One of my men reported a Drell, recently. Hmm, interesting. Apparently he was talking to Mouse."

"Mouse?" Thane asked. From his tone of voice, it was less confusion and more…familiarity. But he wasn't about to tip his hand yet.

"He's a petty criminal." Bailey said. "Probably not the guy that hired your boy, but a messenger. He's a former duct rat, and runs errands for anyone that will pay."

"Duct Rat?" Sis asked.

"It's a local sland for the poor kids who grow up on the station." Bailey said. "Whjen they're small, they tend to play in the ventilation ducts, where adults can't get to them."

" **We conclude such a practice seems highly dangerous for organic life.** " Legion commented.

Bailey sighed.

"Every couple of months, we pull a little body out of them. Lacerated by the fan blades. Broken by a deadfall. Suffocated by vacuum exposure." He shook his head. "Those are just the ones we know about. More just disappear. Maybe they get sucked into space. Maybe they fall into the protein vats that the keepers run. Mouse survived long enough that he can't fit in the ducts anymore. He was one of the smarter ones. Or one of the luckir ones, depending on your point of view."

"And what kind of crimes has Mouse gotten into ever since he grew up past being a duct rat?" Sis asked.

"Odd jobs for shifty people." Bailey said. "Duct rats take whatever's available in order to get by. Data fencing. Fencing stolen goods. Selling illegal VI personalities." The last one made him chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Sis asked.

"Actually, Mouse was recently picked up for selling one of you."

"…Me?" Sis asked. Captain Bailey chuckled.

"Yeah. When you erased a file, it would say 'I delete data like you on the way to _real_ errors.'"

I couldn't help it, I started to chuckle. And then Sis started giggling too.

"It was buggy, though." Bailey said. "It crashed every half hour. The error message claimed that the galaxy itself was at stake, and that you should fix the problem yourself."

Sis stopped laughing, which only made me laugh harder.

"What?" She hissed. "I don't…I don't crash! I am efficient!"

"If your VI is anything to go by, there are a lot of frustrated consumers that would disagree." Bailey said, a wry grin on his face.

"That's bullshit!" Sis said. "Well, at least there aren't too many people that bought the thing."

" **Scanning. VI obtained. Diagnostic running…ERROR. "My name is Commander Shepard. I'm too busy to fix your stupid little problem. I have a galaxy to save. So stop whining and go to tech support…VI purged from system. Consensus: VI program poor condition, would not recommend.** "

Sis looked positively deflated. While her ego was wrecked, I decided to steer the conversation back to the relevant stuff.

"Where can we find Mouse?" I asked.

"He is usually outside the Dark Star." Bailey said. "He works out of a public comm terminal. You should pick up a copy of that VI, while you're at it. A pretty funny thing, I think." He turned to Thane. "It sounds like your boy is running with the wrong crowd."

"Yes. He is." Thane said solemnly.

"If Mouse can't get you in touch with your boy, he'll know someone who can. And I promise to help any way that I can."

Sis and the others nodded, and walked off. I leaned in and looked Captain Bailey in the eye.

"Why bother, Captain?" I asked. "As far as you know, this is just another Drell. Just another statistic."

"No, son." Captain Bailey said. "He's a statistic if I have to arrest him, or if I have to notify his family that he's been killed in a drug sting or suffered an OD while in the projects. Right now, he's walking in the dark, but he isn't lost yet. And if I can write a happy ending to this story when I finish the report, then I'll consider it a victory."

With that, he turned to his desk, a wordless and yet not-so-subtle signal for me to get lost.

…

"You didn't tell him that Kolyat plans to assassinate someone." Thane was speaking to Sis as I rejoined the group.

"And he's a cop." Sis said. "I say that, and the alarm bells go off. Someone tries to stop Kolyat, and either he or the cop or even the target get killed in the interim. We can stop this before it gets too far."

"Yes…of course." Thane said. "Thank you, Shepard."

We walked through some of the storefronts, ignoring the randos that were asking my sister for an endorsement. I know that Sis was sorely tempted, but she wasn't about to be a free shill for publicity. Hmm, that makes her a bigger person than I. I'm pretty sure that if I was in her position, I'd whore myself out for a quick buck. But, then again, "I'm Jonathan Shepard, the Butcher of Torfan, and this is my favorite store on the Citadel" is not exactly the best kind of marketing endorsement.

We found Mouse in the corner, talking to someone on his holopad. He was scraggy, with a thin mustache and a beard that he hadn't shaved in a while. But he was too young for it to be a _real_ beard; it looked more like peach fuzz, to be perfectly honest.

"Yeah. Sure." He was talking. "I can get two cases for you by the end of the day."

"You Mouse?" Sis asked. He turned around.

"Yeah, sure. What do you-" He saw Thane and violently flinched in shock. "Oh, shit! Krios!? I thought you retired!" And then he got a look at my sister. "And…Commander Shepard? I thought you died! What do you want with me?"

Thane leaned forward, and gently rested a hand on Mouse's shoulder.

"Be still, Mouse." He said. "You can change your pants in a moment."

I had to fight so damned hard not to start laughing at the kid right then and there.

"You know Thane?" Sis asked.

"Krios? He didn't-?" He clammed up. "Uh. If he didn't say nothing, I ain't either."

So I drew my Carnifex and gently aimed it towards his knee.

"Would you say something if it keeps a slug out of your patella?" I asked.

"When he said the same name, I didn't think it could be the same Mouse." Thane said. "He was a contact on the Citadel when I was active. He and some other children would gather information for me on targets."

"You'd put children in danger to spy for you?" Sis asked, quite justifiably appalled. Thane sighed.

"Children. The poor. My people's word for their kind is 'drala'fa': the ignored. They're everywhere, see everything. Yet they are never seen." He said.

At this, Thane grabbed Mouse by the collar. Clearly, his fatherly patience was wearing out in comparison to his fatherly concern for his own son.

"You gave another Drell instructions for an assassination. Who's the target?" He asked.

"I…I don't know." Mouse said. "I didn't ask. 'Cause the people I work for…they can make me disappear."

At this, I clicked off the safety on my pistol, and kept it pointed at his knee.

"And you think that we can't?" I asked. Mouse sighed.

"I'd like to help you, Krios. You always did right by us, made sure that we always got paid. But I ain't gonna die for you."

"Look, you know Thane." Sis said. "He wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Do it. For him."

At this, I lowered my gun.

"And put it this way: I can make the people who'd make you disappear…disappear." I said, putting on my best menacing voice. Mouse gulped. He didn't know who I was, but if he was more afraid of me than he was of his erstwhile bosses, then I was doing something right.

"I…want to." Mouse said. "Thane was always really nice to us! But these people…they ain't nice."

"Mouse…I swear that you won't be named." Thane said.

"And if you are, I'll kill the people that hear it." I said.

"All right, all right." Mouse conceded. "He came with that holo you took of me. Said that he wanted a job." He turned around. "I ran through your old contacts to see who might give him a shot. The guy who offered up was Elias Kelham."

"Who's Kelham?" Sis asked.

"Human." Mouse said. "Moved to the Citadel about ten years ago. He was little people when you were here, Krios." He shook his head. "But he got big after the Geth attack. Lots of the big guys from before got cacked. All in them big fancy apartments up on the Presidium." He looked annoyed at how things had changed. "Now Kelham runs the rackets on the lower end of the Ward. Shin Akiba. He's _seriously_ bad news."

"You just saved yourself a world of pain, kid." I said.

"Yeah, right." Mouse said. "When Kelham finds out what I've done, I won't live long. And I can't do nothing about it but hide." He turned to Thane. "Krios, you got any kindness for me, put a bullet in Kelham before you go."

He walked off, shaking his head. And then I grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Sis, you take the others and go ask Bailey about Kelham." I said. Sis looked at me.

"Don't hurt him, John." Sis warned. But she listened, and led the others back to the C-Sec offices. As soon as they were gone, I looked Mouse in the eye.

"Kelham won't trouble you no more." I said. "But do me a favor…take these credits." I passed him some. "And book yourself a flight back to the home planet."

"Why?" Mouse said. "I have a good gig working information."

"And you'll be dead by the end of the year." I said. "So take the money and find a way to start over. Or don't. Just know that moments like these don't come around more than once. And it ain't gonna end well for you the next time." I walked away.

…

I caught up with the others right as they entered Bailey's office. He looked up from his desk.

"Back so soon?" He asked.

"Can we talk about my associate's son?" Sis asked.

"I'm betting you talked to Mouse." Bailey said. "You get the name of the guy who he's working with?"

"Elias Kelham." Sis said.

At this, Bailey's smile faltered.

"Kelham. Shit."

And here's where the benefits of having a crooked cop on your side fall. Because just because you have a crooked cop one way doesn't mean that the bad guys don't have him bent in another way.

"Got an 'arrangement' with him, I take it?" I asked.

"Ah…look, this is awkward." Bailey said. "Kelham and I have…an agreement. He doesn't cause too much trouble, and 'buys tickets to the C-Sec charity ball' from me. In return, I ignore him."

"What?" Sis snarled. "Are you telling me that you're being bribed, officer?"

"What did you expect, Sis?" I asked. "You thought that because Bailey bent for us, he wasn't gonna bend for the other guy?" I turned to Bailey. "Can you bring him in?"

"I'll get some of my people to bring him in and set him up in a private room. You can interrogate him yourself." Bailey said, shaking his head. "I'll stay out of sight. If I'm lucky, Kelham will believe that I had nothing to do with it."

"We can be discreet." I said. "Just do it."

"Who's the commander here, John: you or me?" Sis asked, sufficiently miffed.

…

He didn't really come quietly. You could hear Kelham swearing up a storm as he was dragged into the interrogation room, all the while howling for his lawyer and for Captain Bailey to come. Each and every time, the women officers holding him rmarked that Captain Bailey was out of the office on a business conference and couldn't be reached. This only caused Kelham to shout even louder about the horseshit of it all. It was kind of funmny. Finally, he was led into the room, and fitted into a restraining chair. As we got ready to enter the room, I turned to Sis.

"Let me go in there, Janey." I said.

"Why?" She asked. "I can handle myself."

"Yeah, in an Alliance courtroom or investigation." I said. "But we don't have the luxury of that time. He's held up on phony charges right now, and his lawyer is gonna be on his way. Give me and Thane a few minutes, and we'll have him singing Bohemian Rhapsody."

" **Our consensus suggests this is an unlikely occurrence. We shall stand outside and monitor for sufficient change in pitch and vibrato to determine if song is being sung.** "

" _Thank_ you, Legion." Sis said. She shook her head, clearly starting to stress out. "Fine. _Fine._ Just make it quiet…and don't kill him." I just shook my head.

"Where's the fun in that?" I asked. At this, Captain Bailey walked up.

"He'll expect me to get him out of this." He said, sighing.

" _Captain?_ " A voice came in on his omnitool, broadcast so that we could hear. " _His lawyer's here. Bet Elias has his VI set to page him if C-Sec gets within ten meters._ "

"Shit." Bailey said. "I'll stall him, and act like I don't know what's going on." He turned to Thane and I. "Get in there and work fast."

We started walking to the interrogation room.

"Thoughts?" Thane asked.

"Yeah, I got an old trick." I said. I glanced over at the maintenance desk nearby, and a few of the things lying on it. "Here's what we're gonna do…"

…

The door opened, and we saw Elias Kelham was sitting down in his chair.

"Who the hell are you two?" He snarled. He looked like the kind of greaseball who started out poor and low-rent, and was now dressing himself the way a poor person thinks that the rich and famous dress and act like. I could practically smell the fakeness radiating off of him.

I pressed a button on my omnitool, and the restraints came off.

"Figured we should let you know that Bailey has nothing to do with this." I said. "And we're just here to talk. Off the record. Figured we'd let you know we mean business with the lack of restraints and all."

"Off the record? In a C-Sec interrogation room? Suuuure." Kelham said, standing up and rubbing his wrists. "Now what the hell is thi-"

Thane cut him off with a punch to the face.

"Fuck!" Kelham shouted, hitting the deck with a bloody nose. He got up. I grabbed Thane.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked. "This isn't part of the plan!"

"I don't care about plans, I care about who this man hired to have assassinated!" He said. He was as angry as I'd ever seen him. If I wasn't careful, he might try to break my neck.

"Thane, listen to me. You're emotional. This isn't going to work. Just…just let me talk to the guy. You wait outside, alright?"

"With no support?" Thane asked in disbelief. "Are you out of your mind?"

"No. But keep this up and you might be." I said. I looked at him pleadingly. " _Please_ , Thane."

He stared at me. I could feel the hate burning in his eyes as I denied him a quick way to get to his son. But then he sighed.

"You have five minutes." He said. "If he clams before you get him talking or his lawyer gets to him…just make sure that doesn't happen." He stormed out of the room.

"Jesus, what a hothead." Kelham muttered. "Guess the frog man needed some cold water to rest in, huh?" He reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigar. "You got a light?" He asked.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my lighter. As he took a puff to get it burning, he looked me in the eyes.

"So, what are you supposed to be? The good cop to his really shitty bad cop?"

I just smiled.

"Good cop and bad cop left for the day. I'm a different kind of cop."

He was still smiling when I stabbed him in the side of the thigh with a nail.

As he clutched at his knee, screaming in pain, I shut him up by cracking him over the head with a hardcover book I'd stolen off of some C-Sec officer's desk. It was a copy of an old Law and Ethics book.

I like ironic pain.

"You know, back when I ran deep cover, I used to see some freaky shit." I said. I knelt down next to the guy, as he alternated between trying to grab the nail and rubbing his nose and head. "You know what I discovered? Sometimes the old ways worked the best." I took out a copper wire and wrapped it around the nail, keeping him pinned to the ground and preventing him from resisting. His wimpy little slaps were like a tickle. "And then you'd have to be careful, 'cuz the target might get fuzzy and lose focus. So lemme ask you a question…"

I grabbed the battery I'd stolen out of my coat pocket, and pressed it to the copper wire.

"YOU FOCUSED YET?" I roared.

He howled, and then I let go of the battery and picked him up by the scruff of the neck. I carried him over to the wall, and slammed him up against it.

"I want a name." I said. "Who's your boy gonna gat? Who do you want dead?"

"Fuck…you…" Kelham whispered.

"Okay. That's a rib." I said. With one of my hands, I swung a hammer fist into the side of his rib cage, and felt at least two ribs cave in. He had the wind knocked out of him, and fell to the ground on his hands and knees, gasping in pain.

"A. _Name._ " I said. "And this is over."

"Nice…try…" Kelham whispered. I rolled my eyes.

"That's a finger or two."

I stomped on his left hand as hard as I fucking could, and felt his index, middle and pinky fingers break. I rolled him over on his back, and put my boot on his throat.

"I'm on your schedule, bub." I said. "You wanna die before you talk? I can oblige you."

"Do your worst…" He managed to hiss out. I chuckled.

"Don't tempt me." I said. I decided to press my foot down on his ruined ribs.

" _Talid!_ "

I let go.

"What?" I asked.

"Joram…Talid." He whispered. "Turian politician. Running for intendent of Zakera Ward. That's…that's your guy."

I let him go, and helped him back up.

'There, was that so hard?" I asked.

I knocked him out with a forearm to the face.

…

I entered the main lobby, and rubbed my knuckles. The lawyer was sitting there, looking positively pissed. Sis had apparently invoked SPECTRE authority on him, and claimed that I was under her detail. That meant that there was nothing he could do.

"What's the deal?" Bailey asked. "Why did he hire the boy?" I looked at the lawyer.

"Your boy just admitted to hiring a contract out on a Joram Talid." I said. I looked at Bailey. "Who is he?"

"You might have seen his posters around." Bailey said. "He's promising to end organized crime on the ward."

"Talid is a racist!" The lawyer said, indignantly. "He's blatantly anti-human."

"Are things so bad that people can openly campaign as anti-human?" Sis asked.

"Before the Battle of the Citadel, the alien population thought we were violent upstarts. Look what's happened since then." Bailey said. "A human fleet guarding the station for months. C-Sec filled with humans. Anderson does what he can but some people have lived on the station since before humans had starships. They see it as a coup."

"If the majority votes for him, then that's how democracy works." Sis said. "That's democracy for you."

Bailey frowned.

"That's a nice ideal, Shepard." He said, the frustration dripping off of every word. Sometimes Sis could be a little…idealistic for reality's liking. Bailey shook hs head.

"Knowing Talid, he's probably taking to campaigning in the 800 blocks." He looked over to the sergeant nearby. "Get a squad car, sergeant! These four need to get to the 800 blocks."

The sergeant nodded, and with that we made our way to the garage.

…

Joram Talid looked like every politician: dressed to the nines, a fake smile on his face, and eyes that didn't even bother betraying contempt for those that didn't vote for him. As he was shaking hands with potential constituents, I noticed that he was actively avoiding any human contact whatsoever. His Krogan bodyguard looked rather bored.

"There he is." Sis said. "What's the plan, Thane?"

"Someone needs to follow Talid on the maintenance catwalks. Tell me what he's doing. The Krogan bodyguard will make him easy to follow."

"I'll take Legion with me." Sis said. "Best not to have a Geth out in the open. Legion, do Geth still not intentionally infiltrate?"

" **If Shepard-Commander wills it, then this platform shall intentionally infiltrate.** "

"Good. Let's go."

"What about me?" I asked Thane as Sis and Legion disappeared. He turned to look at me.

"Jonathan, I need you…present. Simply make your way through the wards after Talid. Use your training as a COBRA to stick to the shadows." He paused. "I took advantage of Cerberus' record-gathering process to discover more about your past as a black ops specialist. You were good at what you did. I need that man with me on the ground, looking for Kolyat."

"I can do that, Thane." I said. At this, Thane clasped his hands together.

"Would you like to pray with me, Jonathan?" He asked.

Nine times out of ten, I would have said no. I would have told him it wasn't my style. That I didn't believe in that sort of thing. But when I saw the serene look on his face, I simply couldn't say no.

I didn't remember how to pray as a human, so I decided to follow Thane's lead and clasped my hands together.

"Amonkira, Lord of Hunters. Grant that our hands be steady, our aim be true and our feet swift." Thane began. "And should the worst come to pass…grant us forgiveness."

I blinked, and he was gone.

…

I made my way through the streets, listening as Talid made his sales pitch to the masses. They were all listening intently and with excitement. It simply boggled the mind. He wasn't saying anything of substance. He was repeating a feew buzz phrases over and over, and was always appealing to their fears and insecurities. If he'd been a psychiatrist, he'd have been discredited for quackery. But here he was, winning them all over left and right. It was utterly ridiculous.

But that's politics for you.

Sis and Thane were chirping back and forth as they followed him from a discreet location. That left me basically to my own devices.

There were two ways that I could go about doing this. I could simply stick to the shadows, or I could just act like I didn't give a damn. Hmm…maybe there was a way for me to stick it to Talid…

I watched him step in front of a few voters, and began to spew his rhetoric against us. The people were listening to him, enthralled. I made my way up to the group, my headphones on and my iDroid playing some music.

"That's close enough." The Korgan growled. Talid and the others turned to look at me.

"Can I…help you, human?" Talid asked. He was putting on a fake veneer of sweetness, but he wasn't about to pretend that he was my buddy or my friend. I saw the shifty look on the eyes of those around him. They didn't trust me. I pointed in front of them.

"There's…there's a donation kiosk." I said, pointing to the kiosk in front of me. The one that Talid was standing in front of, in an effort to look good to the others and the voters. It was a little donation for the Citadel's equivalent of the Salvation Army. I wordlessly stepped past them, and made a big show of the donation I was giving. It was Cerberus money, so I didn't give a shit how much I spent.

"Well…I suppose that even humans, as troublesome as they are, have moments of compassion." Talid said, as I walked away. But I noticed that some of the people might not be buying what he was selling wholesale anymore.

I was about to walk away entirely, but then I noticed a figure off to the side. He was watching Talid and his bodyguard as they made their way to the elevator. I would have brushed him off in any circumstance, but in this case, I noticed two things.

For one, he was wiping the sweat off of his brow.

The second reason? He was a Drell.

And in that moment, I knew.

"KOLYAT!" I roared.

He froze, staring at me in shock. But that galvanized him into action. He drew a pistol and aimed it towards the politician.

The Krogan bodyguard pushed him out of the way.

"Call C-Se- _guh!_ " The Krogan took two to the chest, and dropped down to the ground. Talid sprinted up to his apartment, and Kolyat was in hot pursuit. I checked the Krogan.

"Take this." I said, handing him some medi-gel. "It'll stabilize you until the medics arrive." I said. At that, Sis, Thane and Legion all ran up to me.

"They made it to Talid's apartment." Thane said. "We have to go."

We ran for the elevator.

…

Joram Talid was kneeling on the ground of his immaculate apartment, his hands behind his head. Kolyat had a gun pointed to the back of his neck. As we entered the room, Sis took a moment to draw her gun. Thane stepped forward. His voice was soft and calm.

"Kolyat." He began.

"This…this is a joke.' Kolyat hissed. "Now? _Now_ you show up?"

"Help me, Drell!" Talid said. "I'll do whatever you want!"

Almost on cue, Bailey and a Turian officer walked into the room.s

"C-Sec." Bailey commanded. "Put down the gun, son."

"Get out of my way." Kolyat said. "I'm walking out. And he's coming with me."

"They'll have snipers outside." Thane said. As he spoke, I could see police sirens flashing outside the window.

"Kolyat…you'll die." Thane said.

"What do you care?" Kolyat snapped. "You left me! You were always gone! Do you know how many nights Mom was sad because you weren't there with her? Do you know how many nights I asked her when you were coming back? And do you know how many nights I cried myself to sleep when you were gone, 'doing what you needed to do' when she died? Where did I factor into your plans, Dad? I was your son! And you abandoned me!"

Thane tried to speak, but Kolyat just pressed the gun into Talid's head.

"Not a word. You can't defend yourself. You know that everything I said is true." He said.

"Then just get it over with."

Everyone turned to look at me. I stepped forward. I gestured to Kolyat.

"Go ahead. Pull the trigger. Splatter his brains on the ground. Get some of the blood on my shoes, I guess. It'll be irritating, but I can clean 'em. Or buy new shoes. Whatever." I said. I cocked my head to the side. "You ever killed someone before?"

"O-of course!" Kolyat snapped.

"No you haven't." I said. "You probably haven't even thrown a punch in your entire life. You don't know what it's like, pulling that trigger. Because it isn't anything to kill someone. Just pull it, feel the recoil…and that's that. But that's not the hard part. It's the living with it afterwards. And living with the sound of their head exploding, of their body falling and hitting the ground. It's always so fast, and they always fall so hard." I sighed. "And in the end, you can't get it out of your head. You have nightmares. You try to drink them away, or pill up to forget. Anything to forget the sound of the bodies. Of their last moments."

I looked up, and stared him in the eye. I shrugged.

"But whatever. You're a man. You can make that choice. And if you wanna spite your daddy by doing so, I guess I can understand this. But lemme tell you something." I closed my eyes. "I didn't see my father as much as I'd like. It was part of the deal, because mom and dad were never on the same ship. We had to shuffle back and forth in order to make it as close to a fair family as we could. That did make the days that we were all together, the four of us…pretty special. And I didn't get to see Dad as much as I liked, and yeah, it hurt. But the time together was good."

I hear a sniffling. I can tell it's Sis. But I keep going.

"But you know what hurt even more than the fact that I couldn't see him as much as I liked?" I asked. "The fact that he was taken from me. From us. He died, and you know what my last conversation…face to face…with him was about? Just baseball. Trivial stuff. About how our team was going to do better, and how we finally had a chance." I felt something wet and warm running down my eye. "If I had known that was my last conversation with my father…you better believe that I wouldn't have wasted it on something so…superficial. I'd have hugged him. Told him he'd shaped me into the man I was. Told him I loved him. Wanted him to know that the galaxy aligned perfectly for me to luck into someone like him as the man that shaped and defined my life. And no, that wouldn't have removed the pain when I found out he was gone. It might even have made it worse. But…I wish it had been, all the same. Because I never told him, to that degree, just how much I loved him. Sure, I said it, but usually in a low-key way. I would destroy myself to see him again and tell him what he meant to me. I will go to my grave wishing that I'd said more. Always. Forever."

There was dead silence.

"He's going to die soon, Kolyat." I said. "And if you pull the trigger, then so be it. That will be the man that you are. But this will be the last time that you ever see him. And the hole in your heart? It won't ever go away."

"Kolyat…" Thane said. "I wasn't there for you when your mother died. And it was my fault that she died. She died because they wanted to get to me."

"…What?" Kolyat asked.

"After her body was given to the deep, I went to find them. The triggermen." Thane said. "The ringleaders, too. I hurt them. Eventually, I killed them. When I went back to see you, you were – you were older. I should have stayed with you."

"I guess it's too bad for me that you waited so long, huh?" Kolyat's trying to act tough. He's really trying. And yet…

"Kolyat. I've taken many bad things out of the world. You're the only good thing that I have ever added to it." Thane said. "I cannot gain back those lost years…but I love you. And I cannot let you do this."

The tears start flowing down Kolyat's cheeks. His arm goes limp, and the pistol clatters uselessly to the ground. He closes his eyes, utterly defeated. I look at Talid, and gesture for him to get the hell out of dodge. He mutters a brief thank you, and then disappears.

Kolyat starts sobbing, and Thaen rushes forth to hug him. His son returns the embrace.

"This isn't the place to have this conversation." Captain Bailey said. "Nor is it one you should have in front of strangers." He looked around. "Boys, take Kolyat and his father back to the precinct. Give them a room and all the time that they need."

The officers nod, and quietly lead Thane and Kolyat out of the building. As soon as they'd left, Sis turned to Captain Bailey.

"Why are you letting him do that, Captain?" She asked.

Captain Bailey's next words cut to our core.

"Do you honestly believe he's the only man who's screwed up raising a son?"

There was a silence.

"I have to get back to the precinct." Bailey said. "Come on. I'll give you a lift."

…

After we returned to the Zakera Ward, I asked Sis if I could borrow some credits for a shuttle elsewhere. She asked me where I was going.

"Something that I think I need to do." I said. "Something that I didn't realize I might need to do."

With that, she handed me the credits, and I was on my way. Kolyat had been through a lot. This might take a while.

I landed in the Presidium, and in a few minutes I was walking through the pristine gardens. I stepped inside the Council building, and soon came up to the front desk.

"Can I help you, sir?" The Asari receptionist asked.

"I'm here to see Councilor Anderson." I said. She frowned.

"I'm…sorry. The Councilor doesn't usually take public appointments." She said. I sighed.

"Just…tell him that John wants to talk. He'll know what I'm talking about." I said.

She sighed, rolled her eyes, and typed in the request. She looked at her screen, clearly shocked, and then looked at me.

"He'll…see you right away, sir." She said.

Councilor Anderson was standing out on the balcony of his office, overlooking the Presidium. He turned around and smiled.

"You look good cleaned up, John. I apologize I don't have any Udinas to throw off a balcony right now." He said. I smirked despite myself. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I sighed, and I reached into my pocket.

"Councilor, how well connected are you to the Alliance military today?" I asked. He smiled sagely.

"I didn't give up my contacts when I donned the Council robes, you know." He said. "What do you need?"

"I need you…to find something for me." I said. "I think it's been discontinued but…considering the circumstances of what I'm about to do…I think I'd like the closest we can get to the original." I handed him the sheet of paper that I'd scribbled the serial number on. He stared at it with some interest, and then looked up at me.

"I can find this." He said. I nodded.

"Good." I turned around and walked away.

"Is everything okay, John?" He asked. As I was in the doorway, I turned back and looked at him.

"Yeah…" I said. "Things are alright. Just getting ready. You never know. But I'd like that…if you can find it."

With that, I left

The gardens of the Presidium were pretty, and there was a little breeze that was rustling through the place as a result of the massive fans somewhere in the distance causing a backdraft. I reached into my pocket, and I pulled out a cigar. After a few moments, I was smoking it. It was a good one. The kind that Dad often smoked whenever he had a chance. I looked at the gardens around me, and sighed.

"I meant it, you know." I muttered. "I'd do anything to say something to you again. Tell you what I really felt. And…" I closed my eyes. "And I'll always miss you terribly. I just hope that this…what I'm doing…makes up for the things I did to avenge you."

There's a buzzing noise. A message on my iDroid. Thane just got out of the room with Kolyat. It's time to go.

And so I walk off, lost in memories of a better time.

A/N: A damned long chapter, I know. But I hope it was a good one! The very next one is probably going to feature some action, some terror, and then a very big moment at the end. I guarantee it. Put it this way: John might be becoming the man he once was…but he's not rid of The Butcher yet.


	36. Project Overlord

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

They're all staring at me. Looks of stunned silence, and even muted horror in their eyes. I don't really care either way. They shouldn't have been surprised with this. It was inevitable.

Sis stares me in the eyes with a look that is a combined mixture of shock, disgust, and anger.

I'm not sorry.

 **EARLIER…**

It had been a quiet morning. The sort that didn't lend itself to much of anything. And yet all the same, I was anxious. I think that most everyone was, to be honest. We had gathered the Reaper IFF, and picked up a Geth at the same time, but there wasn't anything going on. Sis was still hesitating on installing the IFF, for some reason. I got her rationale: the Collectors hadn't made a move in a while, no colonies had gone dark since Horizon, and we needed to make sure that the Normandy was _absolutely_ ready to jump wherever it was that the Collector Base was…

…Which begged the question: where _were_ those bugs hiding? Even the best cloaking in the galaxy can be traced with proper tracking or even knowing where to dig. Even the COBRA unit had to be extremely careful in not leaving a trail…and even then you could never completely erase your presence in the galaxy. You had to hope that whatever fraction of a percentage that formed your margin of error wasn't capitalized on.

But the Collectors? It was like they could vanish like tears in the rain. And it was thoroughly annoying. This was closer to a war than I realized: long stretches of skull-crushing boredom, followed by moments of absolute terror and insanity. It was a rollercoaster, and I was looking forward to when it would all end.

Though then again, there were a few reasons why I didn't want things to disappear quite yet.

"Honestly, John, it can be rather annoying when you just stare like that."

"What?" I asked, the grin forming on my face. She just rolled her eyes.

"I'm trying to do work while you sit there with that little grin on your face and it's…"

"Distracting?" I asked. Miranda is trying not to smile. She's not doing a very good job of it.

"…Perhaps." She admitted. She sighed. "You know that this isn't going to be a storybook, right John?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked. She sighed again.

"I'm a member of Cerberus, an organization that at best is misunderstood as a black ops group and at worst is considered a terrorist cell." She said. "You're thinking about pursuing a relationship with a _terrorist_ , John."

"And?" I asked. She scoffed.

"It's not like we're going to settle down to a little house in the Irish hills with a white picket fence, two kids and a dog."

"Then how about one kid and two dogs?"

"Take me seriously, please." Miranda said. She looked me in the eye. "When this mission is done, I have to go back to Cerberus. I have to help the advancement of humanity in the galactic stage. I have my job, and I'm sure that you'll have your own."

"But why Cerberus?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"You keep assuming that Cerberus is the only way for the galaxy to take humanity seriously. Why not the Alliance? Why not business? Why not politics? I know that politicians might be little better than terrorists at times but I think you'd be good at it. Or just being the Oprah of this generation."

"John, we've been over this-"

"Why stay the course with them?"

"Because they've done right by me." Miranda said. "I owe something to them. And I owe it to myself to make sure that the good I do is reflective of Cerberus as a whole. I want to be the exemplar for this organization, not the exception."

There was a silence for a moment. And then I sighed.

"As a matter of personal opinion, you don't owe them a thing." I said.

That's when Miranda's terminal starting squawking.

"Hold on…" Miranda said. "Encrypted transmission…" She typed a few keys to decrypt the message, and then started to read it. I watched her face fall immediately.

"We have to talk to your sister. Now."

…

That was how we found ourselves flying towards some raggedy-ass planet out in the middle of the Typhon system. The planet was called Aite. And from the way Miranda was frantically communicating with my sister as we prepared for the mission, it was clear that this Aite was home to a very critical research center for Cerberus.

"Is it just me, or does everything that Cerberus create end up going rogue and then killing everyone in the facility?" Tali asked. She grabbed a rather sturdy-looking shotgun out of her locker, and then racked it to make sure that it was ready. Garrus shrugged, grabbing his Widow sniper rifle.

"Beats me. I think that Cerberus could build a fruit stand that somehow went rogue and then killed everyone in the room." He said.

" **A rather pessimistic conclusion on the effectivity of Cerberus.** " Legion said, grabbing a sniper rifle of its own. " **Our consensus leads credence to this theory, based on personal interaction.** "

"You are all not helping." Miranda growled. She attached a few Predators to her hips, and then made sure that her armor was secure. She was going with that black on gold look instead of her usual outfit, and I have to say that this one was…a little more practical.

Not that I'd ever comment on that to her face.

"So are we just taking the Kodiak to the surface, then?" Sis asked. Miranda turned towards her.

"Actually, Commander, I was thinking that now would be the best time for us to test out the newest vehicular additions to the Normandy's cargo hold."

Sis looked positively gleeful.

"The Hammerheads?" She asked.

"Yes, Commander. I figured the combination of flexible movement as well as firepower would be a good change of pace."

Sis looked like the happiest woman on the planet.

"And I'll be behind the wheel!"

I noticed something. It seemed like the air in the room had gotten colder. Clearly, Sis had not gotten the reaction she was hoping for. Annoyed, she looked around the room.

"Okay, what gives? I'm gonna be driving! Isn't that great?"

Garrus and Tali both looked like they had been told they needed a colonoscopy. Garrus bravely raised his voice, turning towards Miranda.

"Um…when you surgically restructured her, did you…um…"

"Mr. Vakarian, the concept of driving is related to fast-twitch muscles and hand-eye coordination. There was no need to tinker with the Commander in that regard."

"That's not what Garrus was getting at." Tali said. I could almost see her rolling her eyes.

I saw Sis' eyes narrow, as she put two and two together.

"Waaaait. Is this about the Mako?"

Dead silence.

"Hey Garrus? Tali? I'm gonna turn around. And when I do, can you do me a favor and twist the knife in my back a little bit?" Sis asked.

"Is this for real?" Miranda asked. "Are we seriously having a mutiny because of discontent with how the Commander drives?"

"No it's not that." Garrus said. "It's a mutiny because the Commander _can't_ drive. She treats mountains as challenges to her dignity, and gorges as super ramps. A 45 degree angle on a cliff is a walk in the park, and there is no preventing the Commander from flipping the Mako at least once…per minute."

"That hurts, Garrus. That's hurtful."

"This is ridiculous." Miranda said. "Well, I'm not qualified to drive vehicles of this caliber. And I highly doubt that any of you are, either."

"…Is it a basic holographic targeting interface, with HOLOpoint driving?" I found myself speaking before I could stop myself.

"…Yes?" Miranda asked. I looked at her, and then I looked at the others. And then I shrugged.

"I guess I could drive the thing."

There was a pause.

"Oh spirits _,_ it's _genetic._ "

…

I'm not really sure what was better: the fact that, after years of being out of practice, it turned out that driving things is like riding a bike in that you never forget…or that Garrus was literally singing Hallelujah as I guided the Hammerhead out of low orbit towards the planetary surface…or the fact that Sis was sitting shotgun right next to me, her arms crossed over her chest in the most petulant posture I have ever seen.

I feel like I won twice with this one.

I activated the boosters, and the Hammerhead gently slowed to a crawl, and soon we were parked outside the front of the facility. It was your typical black ops front: you've got a bunker in front of you…but there was a big-ass satellite out in the distance. That was the firsrt thing that caused me to raise an eyebrow. What kind of project would need that kind of communicative prowess?

"Alright everyone, let's move." Sis said, still a little grumpy that I had usurped her as the best driver in the family. (Or maybe she was just flashing back to the times I had to pick her up from break-ups that went poorly) As the doors opened, we all rolled out of the ship and pulled out our weapons. As far as we knew, there was an active enemy presence in this base, and that was why it had gone dark.

Well, until a voice came in on our TeamCom.

" _Thank God you came! My name is Dr. Gavin Archer. The situation here is urgent – we're facing a catastrophic VI breakout._ "

"Oh thank god, Dr. Archer is still alive." Miranda said. She pressed a finger to her TeamCom earpiece. "Dr. Archer, this is Operative Lawson, code authorization Alpha One-One Lazarus. What was the cause of the VI breakout?"

" _There isn't time, Dr. Lawson. I'll explain the details later, but right now you must retract that transmission dish! The controls aren't far from your position. You have to hurry!_ "

Well, that was rather frustratingly vague.

"You know Dr. Archer?" Garrus asked. Miranda nodded.

"He's a very smart and principled man. Fully for the cause of advancing humanity in the galaxy, and has been a model Cerberus operative for a long time."

"That's…not exactly a badge of honor…" Tali muttered under her breath. I had to agree with her. Sometimes Miranda's cheerleading of Cerberus got tiresome.

"Let's move!" Sis said.

She led us into the front building, and as we descended the stairwell I could see that things had gone to hell in a hacksaw. There were a few dead bodies in the stairwell, with a charred patch on the wall from either an explosion or from weapons fire. Either way, these Cerberus scientists weren't getting up any time soon.

" _Over here – on the monitor_!"

We saw at the receptionist desk that there was a monitor that had crackled to life, and there was a man looking at us. Had a beard growing, head shaved bald, and his eyes were baggy and he looked like he hadn't slept in a while. So your standard scientist.

" _Ah, there you are._ " He said, relief in his voice. " _I've locked myself in a computer room on the far side of the base. There are Geth on the loose._ "

" **We can confirm. Scanners detecting multiple platforms in the vicinity. All heavily armed.** "

" _Is…is that a Geth platform? Speaking?"_ Dr. Archer asked.

"Consider it a pet." Sis said.

" _Oh…fascinating._ " Dr. Archer said.

But I saw something pas through his eyes when he said it. It was barely thrre, maybe no more than for half a second, but I noticed it all the same. It was a brief flash of realization and terror. Terror about something, and realization about what? I wasn't sure, but there was one thing that I did know: this guy was hiding something.

" _A rogue VI program has seized control of the base and…I've lost a lot of friends today. I'd hate to see you join them._ " Dr. Archer said.

"We won't." Miranda said. "We have to go evacuate Dr. Archer, and if possible put a stop to whatever it is that has liquidated the base."

"It sounds so…clinical when you put it that way." Garrus muttered. Sis rolled her eyes, but gestured for us to follow her deeper into the base. As we walked past a control console, I noticed a little holopad on the counter. I swiped it, and then checked: well, I'll be damned. It could fit into the jack on my iDroid. I decided to plug it in and listen.

" _Status report: Please inform the Illusive Man that we've made great strides on our research._ " Dr. Archer's voice crackled into my ear. " _His doubts about the lack of progress are unwarranted. A demonstration is forthcoming._ "

Well, a scientist wanting to make a big gesture to secure funding from his skeptical superiors. I'd read enough comic books and seen enough movies to know where this was going.

We made our way to an observation deck that overlooked some of the outer courtyards on the base. There were dead bodies and damaged consoles everywhere. We kept moving, but the tension was beginning to build. We knew that Legion had confirmed the presence of Geth nearby…but where?

I caught another holopad recorder, and inserted it into my iDroid. I made sure to pocket the other holopad recorder. Never know, sometimes my hoarding skills might come in handy.

" _Memo to all project personnel: I understand that there's some concern about handling live geth._ " Dr. Archer said in my ear. " _I agree it's a risk, but the potential reward is far greater. Someday, your sons and daughters will thank you._ "

"Miranda?" I asked. "What's the official Cerberus policy on handling live geth in a project?"

"I…I don't know, actually." Miranda admitted. "I was never involved in those sorts of projects, if they existed. My sole focus in the Lazarus cell was the reconstruction of Commander Shepard. I didn't need Geth for that."

Sis went over to the control panel, and pressed the button to activate the dish. We heard a rumbling as it began to descend towards the ground. It couldn't have been that easy.

 _ **SKREE SKREE SKREE**_

 __Of course it wasn't.

Almost immediately, every single monitor and screen in the room had the same image on it: a computerized…pair of pupil-less eyes. Green. And shrieking at us.

"What the hell is that?" Garrus shouted.

And just like that, it was gone. And the satellite remained in place.

" _Dammit!_ " Dr. Archer appeared on one of the screens. " _The VI has overridden the controls. We have to stop him –he's trying to upload his program off-planet!_ "

Wait…

"Why did you say him?" I asked. "Aren't Vis designed to be genderless, even if they visually have an appearance one way or the other?"

Dr. Archer blinked once.

" _It's…a highly advanced VI. Almost to the point of being an AI. Thus, we took to calling it 'him' or 'he' as it exhibited sentience. It was a force of habit, to be honest._ "

That's not exactly the best excuse I've ever heard. But okay.

" _You'll have to manually destroy the antennae in the dish._ " He said. " _There's a tram on the lower level. Get to it as fast as you can!_ "

"You heard the man." Sis said, gesturing for us to follow her. "I don't like the idea of a near-omniscient VI fucking with us every step of the way. Let's try to get this taken care of, hm?"

On that, we could agree.

As we made our way down the hallway towards the tram, I noticed something. Well, two things, actually. The first was that every security camera was pointed towards us, and that instead of the usual red 'on' color…they were all green. The same green as the VI hthat had hacked into our plans. And as we heard the VI squawk again, I noticed that my sister seemed to be under some degree of distress.

As we made our way through the hallway, we were about to open the door when Legion stepped forward with its rifle. It activated the door, and then immediately fired. We're talking about a nanosecond's reflex here. But then I saw the headless body of a Geth trooper slump to the ground ahead of us, and realized that maybe it was good to have a walking computer with equally-quick reflexes on our side.

"GETH!" Sis shouted, sliding into cover next to Miranda, who was already shooting from behind a wall. Garrus took cover to the rear with Legion, and the two of them tok turns firing shots. That left Tali up front, where she quickly took the brunt of the Geth's fire. I looked over to the right, and saw the catwalk. Without thinking, I raced over towards it. That was about the same time that a Geth trooper showed up. Again, without thinking, I just threw a thrust kick right to the thing's chest. It clearly was not expecting that, and as it was staggered I plugged its head with a pair of shots from my Carnifex. With a half-destroyed head, it didn't really defend itself as I grabbed it and threw it off of the balcony and to the floor. From my heightened position, I had a great flanking position on the remaining Geth.

I used it.

Sis noticed that the dust had settled and motioned for us all to follow her. We went through the hallway ahead towards the tram line. I noticed another holopad with a recorder. At some point, leaving your memos around is just lazy. But I didn't really worry about that as I plugged it in. Once again, it was Dr. Archer.

" _Memo to all project personnel: Congratulations on your hard work. Tomorrow, we make the next leap forward._ _It will be a great day for Cerberus, and an even greater day for humanity._ "

"Miranda?" I asked.

"What?" She asked.

"Would you describe Dr. Archer as…a visionary sort?" I asked.

"He was…well, is…a brilliant mind." Miranda said. "He was the sort that had many radical ideas for how Cerberus could be efficient in the future. I think that he worked in his civilian life in academia: the advancement of human-VI interrelations, or something like that. His dissertation was…well, it was definitely a read."

"Are you suggesting that you didn't know how to read it?" Tali asked, somewhat teasingly.

"I will confess that human-VI relations is not my strong suit." Miranda replied testily. "I'm not Wonder Woman, you know."

As we reached the tram controls, Sis paused and turned back to look at her.

"Did…did you just refer to something that normal people would read or look at?"

"What's wrong with knowing about Wonder Woman?" Miranda replied, now getting thoroughly annoyed. "She is the ideal woman. Powerful, smart, beautiful…dangerous…."

"Careful Miranda. If I didn't know any better I'd say that you believed you shared similarities." Garrus said.

Even I had to chuckle at that one.

…

As the tram moved along the line, we noticed that the dish was starting to turn towards a new direction. That couldn't be good.

" _Damn it all! – he's aligning the dish to a new upload target!_ " Dr. Archer said. " _He'll have a clear sight to our satellite!_ "

"Then we're on a tighter schedule than normal." Sis said.

The doors opened, and we made our way through another hall. This one was littered with the bodies of dead Cerberus operatives. Almost all of them had been running. Shot in the back, from the looks of it.

 _They tried running. We didn't give them the satisfaction. They were monsters, less than worthy of living. Killing them was revenge. Revenge for people that we'd lost both on this rock and elsewhere. It was only fair._

No. Not here. Not now. Keep it together, John.

As we made our way to the outside, and the wind howled around the catwalks, we encountered more Geth. It was easy cleaning them up. Whatever had been sent to kill us was obviously holding back for later as a future ambush. When the last of them fell, Sis reloaded her rifle.

"With all due respect Legion, I do not like Geth."

" **We understand the frustration, Shepard-Commander. Most of the Geth dislike the heretics as well.** "

"Most of them?" Garrus asked. "Are there any dissenters?"

" **Those of the Geth Collective that do not dislike the heretics simply advocate their eradication.** "

Well…nice to know that even synthetics have hardliners.

I noticed that there was another audio log sitting in a room off to the side. I grabbed it and pressed play.

" _This is Project Overlord with an emergency message to Cerberus command! We have experienced a catastrophic security failure and are requesting assistance!_ "

Well. This place is called Project Overlord. Gotta say, it's pretty clear that Cerberus doesn't mess around when it comes to the dramatic naming department.

" _We-what do you mean our outgoing comms are jammed? How can it do that?"_

Well, that's a new development.

"John, what are you collecting?" Miranda asked.

"Yeah, you've been scrounging some things off of desks for a while now." Garrus said.

"They're audio logs." I said. "I'm listening to a real-time breakdown of Project Overlord."

"And is there anything useful?" Miranda asked.

"Other than yet another case of Man underestimating the ability of his creations to overthrow him? No, nothing out of the ordinary." I said. I looked over at the base of the satellite in front of us. "I'm betting that the VI is not too pleased with how close we're getting to stopping it."

As if on cue, there was a mechanized roar from…somewhere. And everywhere. And nowhere. Whatever it was that we were dealing with…it wasn't happy.

"John, sometimes I hate it when you're right." Tali said.

A few more Geth came out from a nearby walkway adjacent to the one we were standing on, and we were forced to talk cover behind the walkway's wall. As Sis went to work on the encrypted lock on the door, the rest of us took turns taking potshots at the Geth. That was the easy part. The hard part was when we got inside the satellite…and were swarmed by Geth.

It was hellish. I found myself cut off from the group, and began shooting at anything that moved. I heard a cry of annoyance, and realized that Miranda was close to me…and that her gun had jammed. Again, it seemed that it was time to do something stupid. I raced over, and threw my shoulder into the Geth trooper that had her pinned down. As it smacked down to the ground, I just emptied my gun in the side of its head. I helped Miranda up rto her feet.

"I didn't _need_ help." She said.

I replied by giving her a brief kiss on the cheek. Miranda looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and then planted one on my lips. But not for too long. Wouldn't want anyone to see us.

"I don't do things half-measure, Jonathan." She said with a wink.

"MIRANDA! JOHN! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" Sis roared from somewhere over on the other side of the satellite interior. I saw that she was beginning to fight her way up the spiral staircase that led to the support struts of the satellite. No…she's not.

" _You need to destroy the support struts now. They have their own capacitors around here. Try blowing them up!_ "

Jesus, this might be the dumbest thing that I've ever heard of.

We got to the top of the satellite, right in the dish. And there were several support struts around the edge of the dish. Sis blew open the first one, drawing an angry howl from the VI. Garrus and Tali raced over to another one, and in a nice one-two punch they destroyed the second one. Legion fired the most perfect shot I have ever seen, and blew apart the third. I could feel the satellite start to wobble in the wind. That left me and Miranda. Ignoring the roars of the VI and the fire from the Geth, we raced over to the final support structure. Miranda opened it up, and then with a well-placed grenade I turned it into scrap metal.

And that's when I felt things shift.

" _You've done it! The satellite link is severed!_ "

Yay. Great. Now let's talk about the more pertinent matter: the fact that the entire damned satellite is about to drop on our heads.

"MOVE!" I shouted, racing through the rapidly shattering satellite. The others were already ahead of us. It was just Miranda and I at this point. I felt stinging, nicking pains as shrapnel cut my cheeks and forehead, and any other pieces of exposed skin.

I felt the floor giving, and saw that we were only a few seconds away from the edge. The others had jumped. That just left us. With a yell of something primal and terrified, I leapt the gap. Miranda was right beside me. We landed next to the others right as the entire damned satellite went down. All that was left was a dust cloud and billions of credits in damage. Hope the Illusive Man had deep pockets.

"Over here!"

We all woozily got back up to our feet to see a man in a Cerberus science suit run up to us. Sis was right back up, and was speaking immediately.

"Dr. Archer?" She asked. "What the hell is going on here?"

Dr. Archer looked introspective and melancholy.

"Man's reach exceeding his grasp. Come on, I'll explain." He muttered.

He led us away, but I had a feeling that this story was just beginning.

…

"You have my thanks, Commander Shepard." He said, leading down a walkway somewhere deep in the bowels of the facility. It seemed that the entire planet was catacombed with research facilities. How the hell could Cerberus afford all of this?

"You owe us that explanation." Sis said.

"This is Project Overlord." Archer said. "An attempt to gain influence over the geth by interfacing a human mind with a VI." He paused. "The results have been…less than satisfactory."

"I'd hate to see what you call a disaster." I said. Tali was understandably livid.

"You're trying to create an abomination!" She said. "Organic minds and synthetic minds don't work the same way. It's like trying to compare apples with dining room tables!"

"That's…an oddly specific analogy, Tali." Garrus muttered. "And very human-centric."

"I like the phrase. It is very evocative." She replied back. "And human daytime television is full of such expressions."

If all of Tali's interactions with human culture were through watching old daytime television, then it's no wonder that most species hate us.

"You cannot deny that the experiment has been partially successful." Dr. Archer said. Below us, in one of the rooms I saw that Legion was checking the corpse of one of the good doctor's colleagues. "My brother David volunteered to serve as a test subject, but his mind couldn't handle the VI connection."

At this, both Sis and I stared at him.

"Your own brother volunteered?" Sis asked.

"And you didn't discourage him?" I asked.

"Of course I did!" Dr. Archer said somewhat testily. "I told him that the side-effects could be catastrophic, but he didn't care. He wanted to do this. Looking back, he clearly didn't understand what he was getting into." Dr. Archer sighed. "Now he's like a virus, infecting our network and seizing control of any technology that he can."

"You still shouldn't have let him do this." I said.

"It's too late for that now." Dr. Archer said with a hint of annoyance. "We have to focus on the 'now.' And that's why you had to destroy the dish. Imagine if his program got off world. The technology is such that… he could even bring the Citadel to its knees."

"How does he take control of electronics?" Sis asked.

"This is a hybrid intelligence the likes of which I've never seen, and I've been studying this field my entire life." Dr. Archer said. "I don't know where the man ends and the machine begins."

"That Citadel line…you're joking, right?" I asked.

"Do I look like I'm in the mood for jokes?" Dr. Archer asked. "If my brother gets off-world, we could be looking at a technological apocalypse. Every machine, every weapon, every computer could be turned against us. If he hit the extranet, who _knows_ where it could end?"

"You should have taken this all into consideration before you did this." Sis said.

"We couldn't be expected to account for every outcome!" Dr. Archer said. "Certainly not the abomination David has become."

"Aren't scientists supposed to account for all outcomes?" I sneered. He glared at me, but said nothing.

"How do we stop it? And where is it centered?" Sis asked.

"Davi…the VI has fortified itself in the main laboratory at Atlas Station." Dr. Archer said. "It's in lockdown now. To enter, you'll have to manually override security from our facilities in the Prometheus and the Vulcan Stations."

"How does this lockdown work?" I asked.

"It's a fail-safe procedure in the event of an emergency. Normally, all three projcts leads have to agree to cancel the lockdown." Dr. Archer said. "I'm the only one left now. I can give my authorization as the head researcher on the Overlord Project, but you'll have to manually reset the other two yourself."

"And what happens if we have to kill your brother?" I asked. Jane shot me a look, but she knows that that was a question that needed to be asked.

"Let's…hope that it won't have to come to that." Dr. Archer said. He took a seat, and then glared over at Legion. "Now let me ask you a question – is your friend here going to be a problem?"

"If there's one geth in the galaxy that can't be brainwashed, it's him." Sis said. "Don't worry."

"I'll…take your word for it." Dr. Archer said.

"Well, time is of the essence." Sis said. "Let's head back to the Hammerhead. We need to get to Vulcan and Prometheus Stations."

"It doesn't matter which one you hit first." Dr. Archer said. "Just so long as you hit them both."

With that, Sis signaled for the others to follow her, and we made our way back towards the opening of the facility and towards the Hammerhead. I felt like things were going to get more difficult, but I wasn't sure why. I just knew it wasn't a matter of _if,_ but _when._

…

The Hammerhead ran on the ground as smooth as glass. I was still getting a kick out of Sis' petulance that she couldn't drive, but apparently she was as bad at driving as she was at dancing. And believe you me, you have not seen "bad" until you've seen my sister trying to dance. Or attempt what she thinks is dancing.

"We're approaching Vulcan Station." I said, looking at the nav-computer. "Looks like it's buried in those caves over there."

"Why do laboratories of dubious ethical backgrounds have to be in such uncomfortably creepy places?" Garrus asked. "Wouldn't it be a nice change of pace it they were on a beach or something like that?"

"I imagine the beach property owners would object to their new neighbor being a wannabe supervillain, Garrus." Tali said.

"Perhaps. But think about the pricing! I could afford one of those houses on a soldier's salary!"

"And periodically have to deal with shooting the overflow of whatever abominaitons that lab cooked up."

"Eh, nothing crazier than what I've already seen with Shepard."

"…How are you two my friends again?"

As I led us through some caves, I realized something. This wasn't a laboratory that was based in a cave. It looked more like a place that was based in…a volcano.

" _Commander, this is Archer._ " Dr. Archer chimed into the Hammerhead's radio. " _I advise extreme caution. Vulcan Station is our geothermal plant. They stopped reporting in shortly after the experim-_ " the line went dead.

"Great. No outside communications, then." Sis said.

" **Scanning. According to the M-44 Computer, VI infection is present within the plant machinery. Advise caution.** " Legion chimed in from the back.

"Great. Instead of the Geth, it would appear that literally the entire station is trying to kill us." Miranda grumbled.

I noticed some steam releases that were blasting hot gas into the air. Thinking on my feet, I maneuvered the Hammerhead directly above the gas vents. There was a lifting sensation, and the Hammerhead took to the skies.

"Wheeeeeee!"

"Garrus, knock it off!"

"Sorry, mom."

"I'm not your mom, Turian!"

"You're acting like it, Quarian."

"Contact!" Miranda shouted, pointing to a Cerberus turret that had popped out of the ground towards us. I activated the targeting computer, and pressed the firing button.

A series of missles erupted from the turret ring of the Hammerhead, turning the turret into scrap metal.

Garrus and I literally had the same reaction.

" _HOOOOOLLLLYYYYYY SHIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTT…._ _ **YEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS.**_ "

Miranda just rolled her eyes.

"Ugh. Men."

We soon came to a stop. The cave tunnel had ended, and there was another tunnel across the gap towards us. But there was no way that the Hammerhead could make the jump.

Without a head start.

"…John? Why are you looking like that?" Miranda asked. Sis seemed to perk up.

I put the Hammerhead in reverse.

"John. John, don't do this." Garrus said.

I made sure the boosters were fully charged.

"Keelah, John. We have families! We have lives! You have to live with yourself. Don't do this!"

I made sure to line up the Hammerhead perfectly.

"John, dammit don't do this!"

Sis looked me in the eye.

"Doooooo iiiiittt!"

I floored the gas.

" _ **AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!**_ " Everyone screamed as we took to the skies.

I landed it perfectly.

As we kept rolling through the tunnels towards the base, Garrus found his voice.

"Spirits, it _does_ run in the family."

" **Our consensus was that Shepard-Jonathan more than capable of making the jump. There was a 99% chance of success.** "

"Legion, we're organics. We're always going to be freaking out about that one percent." Miranda muttered.

" **…Revised consensus. Organics are irrational.** "

" _Thank you,_ Legion!"

As we kept driving through the volcanic interior, I noticed that the temparture outside was rising. And that the main building for the Vulcan Station was on the other side of the increasingly-high heat.

"Oh _spirits._ "

There was a flow of lava between us and the building that we needed to get to.

"Fuck. FUCK!" Sis said. "There's no way that we're gonna be able to get across. Even if we tried to get out on foot, the heat would fry our shields."

"…And then us." Garrus muttered, earning him a smack on the head from Tali.

I looked at the lava flow. There were chunks of non-molten rocks in the stream…

Sis looked at me, and then at the lava flow, and then looked at me again.

"John."

I was lining it up…

"…John."

I made sure that the boosters were fully charged…

"… _John._ "

I made sure that the gas was readied.

" _Don't even think about it, John!_ "

"I never do." I muttered.

I floored it.

The sounds of their screams as we basically pogo-sticked from rock chunk to rock chunk, as the heat shields started screeching in protest, alone made this all worth it.

As we pulled up in front of the main building, Sis grabbed me by the shoulder.

"We are _never_ doing that again."

She led us out of the Hammerhead, and we made our way into the main building. It was a disaster zone. Dead bodies, damaged walls and doors…pockmarks of damage…it was the worst I'd seen. I activated one of the audio logs in the room.

" _…received an SOS from Atlas Station. Archer has declared a projct emergency! We're trying to shut down the power generators to starve the VI, but it's already hacked our automated systems!_ "

We made our way into the main security room. There was a single LOKI mech. It was radiating a strange green interface and color, as though it was not on its original programming.

Sis looked at us, and then we looked at her. And then we looked at the LOKI.

BANG BANG BANG BAM BOOM

As the scrap metal fell to the ground, Garrus chuckled.

"Rest in pieces!"

SMACK.

"Spirits Tali, that hurt!"

Sis went over to the main control, and pulled out the lockdown mechanism, overriding the system. With that, we heard Dr. Archer's voice in our ears.

" _…are you receiving this? Commander Shepard, this is Dr. Archer. Please respond._ "

"I read you, Doc." Sis said. "We've overridden the security lockdown at Vulcan. We're headed off to Prometheus now. Shepard out."

…

I had figured that Prometheus Station would be an actual, you know, _station._ The last thing that I thought it would be, as well as what anyone else thought, was that it was a crashed Geth dropship.

"Wow, sometimes I hate Cerberus really bad." Tali grumbled, as the ship's defenses activated and started pelting the Hammerhead with fire.

"It's not _my_ fault!" Miranda snapped, as I weaved in and out of enemy fire. There were little pylons around the ship. If those went down, then we could get to the geth cannons and then to the interior of the ship. "I'm not the commander of Cerberus!"

"You're close enough to the top, though." Tali retorted.

Finally, I decided to test one of the deeper weapons in the arsenal. Garrus pointed one of the commands out to me.

"Oh, try that one! I helped calibrate it, but I don't know what it actually does."

I pressed the button.

 _"Activating Macrosse Missile Massacre._ "

We watched as literally every missile in the arsenal all ejected from the Hammerhead, and all flew towards the targets that were indicated on the targeting computer. It was a roar of hellfire, and soon every target in our path was nothing more than a smoldering lump. And then it went deadly quiet.

Garrus spoke quietly.

"…I think I just had a mangasm."

SMACK.

"Oh come on, Tali!"

…

The interior of the Geth ship was quiet and dark and eerie. There were a few geth suspended in animation, held by green fields that were built of the same sort of visual coding that the VI seemed to control. I grabbed an audio log and plugged it in.

" _Hanging around all these dormant machines is creepy._ " The voice said. " _It's like death staring at us from the shadows._ "

We made our way down the hallway. The VI appeared on the screens, that face of sorts just staring at us. No sounds. No screams. Just…staring. It was unnerving. I grabbed another audio log from a dead Cerberus researcher.

" _Lanigan just ran a simulation – if these geth ever wake up, then there is a 98% chance we'll be dead within two minutes…I'm starting to hate Lanigan._ "

I bet I would have hated this Lanigan guy, too.

I grabbed another one.

" _Halloween was yesterday. Lanigan ran around wearing spare geth parts._ "

…Seriously?

" _Spooked the shit out of everyone. Now I_ _ **definitely**_ _hate him._ "

Yeah. Fuck this Lanigan guy.

We kept descending into the bowels of this dark ship and facility. The fact that there were no geth was starting to get on my nerves. And the fact that the VI was just watching us…oh man, that was getting rough.

I noticed that some of the doors were opening and closing in the distance. Like this VI was just fucking with us. I hate it when I'm not the smartest people in the room. And especially when the smartest man in the room isn't even a man or a woman. In what felt like the main research facility of the building, I grabbed another log.

" _The VI's closing some passages and leaving others open. It's like it's herding us. At least the geth are still inactive._ "

We made our way towards the security lockdown. Sighing, Sis pulled out the last lockdown cylinder.

"That was…easy." Garrus muttered.

And then the VI started screaming.

"Garrus, by Keelah I will _flense you!_ " Tali shrieked, as we saw Geth all over the facility starting to move.

"Run. RUN!" Sis shouted.

There was no time to fight them all. I turned to Legion.

"Legion! GPS us out of here!"

" **Understood, Shepard-Jonanthan. Please follow our lead.** "

A robot was trying to kill us, and the only way that we were getting out of there in one piece…was through a robot. Oy…the irony was gonna kill me.

If the Geth didn't kill us first.

Legion was a glorious tracker. It was hard to deal with how quick it changed directions, but the geth was absolutely leading us outwards and upwards. We could hear the shrieking of the geth and the VI behind us. And now there were bullets peppering the ground, floor and ceiling and walls around us. But we were almost at the exit.

"John! Cover fire!" Sis barked. She and I instinctively turned around and started backpedalling, firing towards the advancing wall of geth while our friends continued running. We were working on instinct, shooting anything that moved. The geth were squawking, the VI was screaming. It was hell.

 _They were everywhere. Everywhere and they choked the air with bullets. Men and women alike dropped like flies as we rushed for desperate cover. Whatever the intelligence we'd gotten in the beginning was, all of that had gone out the window._

And then, just like that, I could feel light on my back. Sis and I turned around, and dove for the outside with the rest of them. That was right as the door gave way, trapping the geth inside the rapidly collapsing ship. It was over.

" _Commander, you've done it!_ " Dr. Archer said in our ears. " _The lockdown has been cancelled. You can now breach Atlas Station and end this nightmare._ "

"Please, for the love of God." Shepard muttered. "Let's just get this over with."

…

The drive to Atlas Station was tense. We all checked our ammunition. We made sure that our shields were fully functioning. We ignored the Hammerhead computer letting us know that there was an aesthetically pleasing landscape view coming up, and that organics might wish to take note. And as we drove to the dark that was Atlas Station, I couldn't help but feel that there was still one trick left to deal with. One more twist in this hellish story.

I pulled the Hammerhead into the docking station. We hopped out of the Hammerhead, and immediately started running for the main control room.

" _Looks like you're in, Commander. Good. I'm getting some troubling readings, though."_ Dr. Archer said. " _The VI is trying to upload its program directly from your location. Get to its server before it-_ "

The line went dead. Sis walked up to one of the consoles and began to interface with it, in the hopes of shutting the server down. I noticed that there was another audio log on a table. I grabbed it, and was about to play it…

…

And then Sis screamed in pain. We watched as the same green coding seemed to coat her. And her eyes…her eyes were burning green. She swung a fist and caught Garrus by the cheek, knocking him down. And then she staggered out of the room. Ran, really. We had a few moments to react, and then we ran after her. But as soon as she entered an elevator, the door closed and locked behind her. I watched the others try to pry the door open, but then I finally reacted.

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY SISTER?" I howled.

"I have no idea!" Miranda shouted.

" **Consensus: the VI has interfaced with Shepard-Commander's synthetic attachments. Most likely outcome: the VI is attempting to communicate or overtake the Commander through neural overload.** "

"Mother _fucker!_ " I snarled. I turned on my TeamCom. "ARCHER! How do we get to the server room? And how do I save my sister? _TELL ME NOW GODDAMMIT!_ "

" _Um…uh…_ "

"ANSWER ME!"

" _Follow the pathway to the left! There should be a hallway that leads down the way! And-oh my…_ "

"What now?" Miranda asked.

" _It appears that David has detected a new program to piggyback onto. Is there…an artificial intelligence on your ship?_ "

"Holy shit." Garrus said.

"EDI?" Tali asked.

" _There is? God, you must get to the server! If David can establish an upload with your ship, he will rip through that AI like tissue paper!_ "

"MOVE!" I howled, taking point. I smashed through the weakened door, and started running down the hallway. My mind started to degrade back to the minds before, when Jane and I were just children.

Jane was my sister. She was my best friend growing up. I remembered the first time that she'd gotten in trouble: she'd gone and broken some equipment in the ship that Dad was stationed on. She was crying and thought that she was going to get Dad fired. I'd told her that everything was going to be alright. That they wouldn't fire Dad for something like that. And they didn't. But they did have him working double time with no overtime pay for a week to cover the cost of repairs. Jane and I learned the importance of being careful. Of being vigilant.

And now Janey was going to get her mind melted by a rogue VI. No matter what happened or who was responsible, _somebody was going to die._

I crashed through another hallway, kicking a Geth in the face and then blowing it apart with shot and punches. I don't know if I broke my hand or anything. Not that I would have felt it anyway. My sister was in trouble. Janey was in trouble. And there wasn't anything that I could do to save her.

" _David! Just let her go! I can make this all stop if you let her go!"_ Dr. Archer was screaming through the intercom. I saw another door. I could just tell that the server room was on the other side. It was a locked door. I didn't even think about it. With a primal roar, I charged at it with the point of my shoulder.

This door was designed to be blast-proof and fire-proof. But it wasn't designed to be Jonathan-proof. It crumpled like tin foil, and I skittered into the server room. My shoulder was throbbing with pain. I might have dislocated it or broken something, but I was in here. The others came in behind us. And then I looked up.

"Oh my god…"

Sis was holding her head, shaking her head back and forth as though she had a massive hangover. Her eyes were normal, like she'd kicked whatever it was that had controlled her. But that wasn't the terrifying thing. The terrifying thing was what was in the center of the apparatus.

David was pale as a ghost, emaciated like he hadn't eaten in days. He was held spread-eagle in the machine, with tubes and wires holding him in place. There were tubes going into his mouth, and wires drilled into his head. His eyes were held open like a Ludovico treatment from hell.

There was a voice.

"Quiet…please…make it stop…"

It was David.

"Wait! Commander!"

Dr. Archer had run into the room.

Sis grabbed him and steered him out of the room. The others followed. She turned to Legion.

"Legion. Be there with him. Try to tell David that everything is alright. That things will be alright."

They all stormed off, and though they went to the other room I could hear the voices of Sis and Dr. Archer from the other side of the wall.

"I beg of you…don't do anything rash."

" _Rash?_ Like forcing your own brother into an experiment?"

"I know how this must look, but I never intended any harm to come to him! You must understand. It's not like I planned this-It was an accident."

"Until people started dying?"

"I had no choice! The demands were incredible. The Illusive Man doesn't broker failure!"

"He doesn't, Commander."

Miranda's words cut to my core.

"Any war that we fight with the Geth will be bloody. I was asked to find a way to avoid that."

I couldn't hear or listen to any more.

…

I realized, as I stared at the pathetic wretch that David had been turned into by the VI program, that I still had not played the audio logs I'd grabbed throughut the Station. I inserted them into my iDroid and hit play all. Dr. Archer's voice came on in my ear.

 _"Archer's log 155.2: For years, my brother's condition has been a handicap. That changed today. His autistic mind is the breakthrough I've been looking for – he can communicate with the geth! Such a tremendous grasp of mathematics…It seems serendipity is alive and well in the 22_ _nd_ _century."_

 _"Archer's log 157.8: Unless he sees results, the Illusive Man is shutting us down next week. I have no choice. I'm going to tap David directly into the geth neural network and see if he can influence them. The danger should be negligible. David might even enjoy it._ "

I stared at David, hooked into that monstrosity. Legion was quietly chirping to the boy, trying its best to calm him down and assure him that it was all over. That the noises would stop. That in the end he would know peace and quiet soon. And I kept thinking. About the scientists. About the dead. About Man's reach overextending his grasp.

And I thought of what this had turned my sister into for a brief moment. And what it had done to David.

" **An unfortunate redundancy."**

I turned to Legion.

"What do you mean…'redundancy?'" I asked. Legion turned to face me.

" **Archer-Doctor wished to learn a means with which to communicate with the geth. While this platform's speech mechanisms are unique amongst the geth, that does not mean that the process could not be replicated.** "

"…Legion, what are you talking about?" I asked. Legion almost looked mournful.

" **It is unfortunate that organics in recent years have associated the actions of the heretics with the actions of the greater geth collective. If organics had sent a probe to the Perseus Veil, the most likely course of action from Rannoch would have been either a polite rejection or an openness to dialogue. And the geth would construct platforms so that organics could communicate with them in ways beyond the Geth language of numbers.** "

I felt cold in my stomach. And then finally I asked the question that needed to be asked.

"…Legion. Are you saying that…that all of this could have been avoided? That if we'd just asked the Geth we wanted to talk…they would have listened?"

" **…We see no reason to build a consensus speculating otherwise.** "

I looked up at David. I could see the tears running down his eyes.

And I saw red.

Wordlessly, I left the room. Dr. Archer was still talking to the others, though it was clear that they were unconvinced with whatever it was that he had to say. I didn't really care what he had to say. He'd been talking long enough. Spitting out words that didn't mean anything. Meaningless platitudes and exultations of regret and pain and misery. The only regret that he had was that he'd been caught.

Without saying a word, I walked up behind him, drew my Carnifex, and blew his brains out onto the floor.

A/N: The Butcher returns…


	37. Aftershock

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

It is silent. The only noise is the echo of the shot, and the slight hissing as I expend the heat sink. Dr. Archer, or what's left of him, lies facedown on the tile. He was dead before he started falling to the ground. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

Sis finally breaks the silence.

"What the _fuck_ did you do that for?" She hisses.

I reach forward, and clap her on the shoulder.

"That was David." I said quietly.

Sis' eye twitches violently, and she yanked my hand off of her shoulder. She raised her finger to her ear to activate the TeamCom.

"Joker. We need an immediate pickup. Lock onto my coordinates that I'm transmitting now. And get Dr. Chakwas and Dr. Solus ready to extract the target. And notify Grissom Academy. Tell them that we have someone that they can help."

" _Aye, Commander."_

She turns around to the others, who are still shell-shocked.

"Head back outside of the station and wait for the Normandy. Dismissed."

She turns around and looks me in the eye.

" _We'll continue this later._ " She said.

I'm sure we would.

…

I was sitting in my room, absently throwing a baseball up and down in the air. After we'd gotten back on the Normandy, the others had sort of left me. I didn't blame them. They knew that my sister had me in the crosshairs, and that I was about to get chewed out. They wanted no part of it, and I would have acted the same way. I held them no ill will.

Zaeed was sitting at his desk, reading. He kept looking up at me, and then darting his eyes back to his book whenever I tried to make eye contact. Finally, he spoke.

"Got yourself into a bit of trouble, didn't you Doc?"

"It was only a matter of time." I said. "Couldn't be a boy scout forever."

Zaeed chuckled, but didn't look up from his book.

"Fair point. For what it's worth, I don't have a problem with what you did. Of course, my word doesn't exactly carry that much weight around here the way it used to." He said. "All I know is that sometimes you gotta make the tough decisions, and what's more, you stick to your reasoning when pressed. You had to know why you did it, after all. You ain't the kind of cat that does something on a goddamn whim, are you?"

My silence is all the answer he needs.

"That's what I thought." He said.

As soon as he'd finished, EDI's avatar popped up on the wall.

" _Specialist John Shepard, your presence is requested in the briefing room._ "

Well, it was time to go face the bullets. I looked over at Zaeed, who gave me a grunt of encouragement, and then I went out the door and headed to my fate.

…

Sis was waiting for me, with her arms crossed over her chest. She was tapping her foot on the floor, and her hair had been hastily tied into a sort of bun to keep it from falling in her eyes. She clearly hadn't bothered to get prepared for me sake. And yet she still radiated intensity. Typical Janey: she could be wearing bunny jammies and still make you wet yourself in fright if she stared at you hard enough.

I entered the door, and it closed behind me. I heard the clicking noise as it locked, and I just stood there. And she stood there. And that was when I realized that Miranda was in the room with us. She was still wearing her combat gear from the mission. It had been about seven hours since I'd excavated Dr. Archer's head with my pistol, and yet she still hadn't bothered changing.

There was silence.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Sis asked. I looked at her. And I shrugged.

"John, when I brought you aboard this ship, I thought that I'd made it clear that we were going to do things my-"

"What do you want from me, Jane, an apology?" I asked, interrupting her from yet another one of her speeches. "What for? Taking out the trash?"

"Dr. Archer was one of the most brilliant men in Cerberu-"

I wasn't even going to let Miranda finish that sentence.

"Dr. Archer is the twisted fuck who hooked his own brother into that… _ **thing!**_ " I snapped. I didn't care about yelling; I figured that we were all going to be doing it sooner or later. "Don't you tell me that you saw that monstrosity and thought that it was 'ok.'"

"We didn't!" Jane said. "But that doesn't mean that you can go around and execute unarmed civilians, John! There is a code!"

"A _code?_ " I sneered. "For what? Playing nice? I don't know what they filled your head with in N7 school, Sis, but for the love of god _grow up._ We do it your way, and that slime slithers away to do the same thing elsewhere. You saw him! He wasn't going to learn from that. The only thing that he was sad and panicked about was the fact that we found him out."

"Then we put him away-"

"And he gets back up!" I snapped. "That's literally how it works every time, Jane! You hit them your way, and they get back up. We hit them _my_ way, and they **stay** **down!** "

"At what cost?"

" _What cost?"_ I snarled. "Haven't you been the one that's been yapping in my ear that we're at war, Janey? Aren't you the one that tells us that we need to do whatever is necessary to defeat these Reapers? You're planning on leading a group of people into an unknown void against an entire fucking _species_ , and the end game is to destroy their homeworld! Jane, you're advocating for a fucking _genocide,_ and yet for some reason you're all hung up over the fact that I shot a dirty scientist in the head?"

"Cerberus is our _ally!_ " Miranda jumped in. "We can't hope to beat the Collectors or the Reapers if we keep burning that bridge-"

"Cerberus is not the _good guy_ , Miranda!" I roared. "Don't you notice how everyone else in the galaxy gives you a glare or a fearful glance when that name comes up? How their entire demeanor changes when they see the Black and Gold? Cerberus is terrible, and responsible for reprehensible things!"

"Those were all isolated cases! They don't represent Cerberus' overall positi-"

"How many times have you said that, do you think?" I asked, sneering. "Ballpark it for me, _Dr._ Lawson. Think about every case that we've run into during this mission alone, and then think about every other time that Cerberus is in the news, accused of the same bullshit. That's an awful lot of isolated cases, don't you think?"

"You don't know the whole story! The galaxy completely misunderstands Cerberus' position." Miranda fired back.

I laughed.

"That's where you're wrong, Miranda. The galaxy doesn't fear Cerberus because they don't understand Cerberus. The galaxy fears Cerberus because they know _exactly_ what Cerberus stands for, and they want no part of it!" I looked her in the eye. "Here's the thing: you're either explicitly okay with the shit that Cerberus does or you just pretend that you don't have anything against it…and after a certain point, there's no difference between actually condoning this bullshit and just pretending that you do."

While we were arguing back and forth, Sis looked at Miranda and had an annoyed and puzzled look on her face.

"Miranda, why are you holding onto this so much?" She asked. "You've hardly got the high ground here. Literally the first thing that I saw you do was shoot Dr. Wilson in the throat."

"That was _different!_ " Miranda suddenly shouted, causing us both to flinch in shock. "Dr. Wilson _betrayed_ us! He was going to lead you to slaughter, and then he was going to doom the galaxy as a result!" She pointed at me. "He's…he's _better_ than this! And yet right when I start to actually believe that, he goes and murders someone without even letting them give their story. Cerberus is many things, John, but we do not play judge, jury, and executioner. _**I**_ don't play judge, jury, and executioner. I joined Cerberus to save my sister, and I stay on because I want humanity to be taken seriously on the galactic scale. Everything that I do, I do it because I believe that I am working towards the greater good. How _dare_ you lump me in with those that took the ideals of Cerberus and twisted it into outright xenophobia and hatred!" She hissed.

Sis looked at me. And then she looked at Miranda. And then she let out a low and horrified moan.

"Oh Jesus Christ, you two _are_ together."

She put her head in her hands, and started muttering. Miranda looked at my sister. And then she looked at me with the iciest expression a human being could imagine.

"We _were._ "

And she stormed out of the room.

…

We watched her go, standing there in silence. And then Sis spoke up.

"You know, John, you are a special kind of asshole. And yet every time I think that you've found the absolute depths of what that means, you keep proving me wrong."

"I don't need your lectures, Jane."

"Yeah you do." She said, glaring at me. "Because, frankly, I'm getting fucking sick of wondering which John I'm going to see in the morning: my snarky and good hearted big brother who saved my ass so many times in high school, or the bitter and caustic shell that came home from Torfan, with my brother nowhere to be found."

"Are you suggesting I just walk it off?" I asked. "That's not how this works, Jane. If you had any idea what I'd seen, you'd just-"

" _I'D WHAT?"_ Jane snapped. It was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen. She glared at me. "I'd what, John? Curl up into a ball? Start crying for mom and dad? Because I'm not tough enough to handle what I've gone through in life? All because of big strong you, taking the cross so that no one else has to bear it?" She narrowed her eyes. "Let me let you in on something, John. What makes you think that you're the only one in this family that has demons?"

For a moment, my mind goes blank.

She stares at me, and then turns slightly so that she faces me directly.

"Do you know what it was like on Elysium? Being the only person that had a gun in the entire area, and the only person that knew how to use it? Do you know how many people I had to kill? How long I had to go at it? And do you know how many people I saw die that day? Civilians, by the way, who had no experience dealing with war and were just frantically shooting like what they'd seen in the movies?" She closed her eyes and sighed. "There was this old man. Name was Jethro. He was the security guard for the apartment complex that I was staying at for my shore leave. Nicest guy on the planet. Always asked me what it was like to serve in the Alliance. Kept sneaking me little treats that his wife baked for him. He was retired, so this was just a little way for him to make some money in retirement." She took a deep breath. "Sometimes, when I dream, I see his face exploding just like it did when he tried to help me shoot at the Batarians that had entered the city limits."

She shook her head.

"And that's not even getting into what I saw when I was linked to the Prothean beacon. Nothing at all." She said. She looked at me. "Liara told me that I would thrash in my sleep, or just start crying without warning. Or wake up in a cold sweat, and then fall asleep without actually registering that I had ever woken up in the first place."

"Jane…" I finally said. "I can't make it go away. They're not leaving me. All the visions, all the blood, all the death and the pain…I can't stop them."

"And neither can I."

I have to admit, that was probably the last thing that I expected her to say.

"Then…how do you keep going?" I asked.

"Honestly?" Sis chuckled to herself humorlessly. "It's one day at a time. And some days are harder than others. But I think part of the reason that I was able to move forward is that I found some degree of closure. I talked to people. And I accepted the fact that the nightmares…the cold sweats, the flashbacks…they're not going away anytime soon. But then again, putting them out in the open makes it easier for me to fight them. And I can make them go away, at least for a little while."

"That's nice, but…there's no way for me to find full closure." I said. "I'm gonna be stuck with unanswered questions for the rest of my life."

"Are you?" Sis asked, raising an eyebrow. She looked in the direction of the door that Miranda had stormed off to. "You know, she can be frigid at times and every now and then I wonder if she's ever allowed herself a moment to enjoy herself but…Miranda is not a bad person. And I don't think it was fair for you to suggest that she's no better than the people that we've had to stop because of what they've done."

"So you _do_ agree with me that getting rid of Dr. Archer was the right thing to do." I said.

"No. Because in your rush for some vigilante justice, you missed out on the most obvious thing in the world." She looked me in the eye. "You let him off the hook. He's dead now. He won't have to suffer for the rest of his life under the realization that for a cheap attempt at scientific advancement, he might have permanently scarred his own flesh and blood. And that's not even beginning to get into the guilt he'll feel over taking an autistic man and treating him like little more than a pawn for his own ambition."

She sighed.

"Yes, it might be true that if we hit them 'your' way, they'd stay down forever. But then again, if we hit them 'my' way, that doesn't mean that they come back up without scars. I show mercy whenever it is presentable because it is the right thing to do…but never forget that mercy can be far crueler than death, John. And oftentimes, that makes it the more fitting punishment than a bullet to the skull."

"And how exactly have you reached this little place of zen, Sis?" I asked. She shrugged.

"It's not like I'm better, John. It's just that I've managed to find some degree of closure about Elysium. I've gone back there, you know. And I talk to people. And it's…some days are rough, like I said. But in the end, you keep moving forward."

She sighed.

"You know, Miranda can be a bit of a bitch some times, but she didn't deserve that. And what's more, _you know_ that she didn't deserve that. Right now, we're headed out to Tuchanka because Dr. Solus wants me taking care of something and Grunt is…having issues. But before you do anything else for my team, you need to do this. I want you to go in there, get your face torn off _because you totally deserve it_ , and then apologize. Because you owe that to her. She's done a lot more for you than I think you realize."

"Oh?" I asked. "And what exactly might that be?"

Sis hesitated, as if wondering whether she should say or do something. And then she clearly decided to pull the trigger. She reached into her pocket, and laid down a small little manila folder on the briefing room table.

"She found Benjamin Kyle."

A/N: It's time for John Shepard to confront the past that he's been running from.


	38. Meeting an Old Friend

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

I stood there in silence.

I don't know how long I stood there, simply brooding in thought. It felt like ages. I blinked, and I was struck with how swiftly the time had passed. It felt like an eternity had passed since my sister had laid that manila folder down on the table. It was as though my mind had stopped working. But there was no denying.

There was his mugshot, paperclipped to the outside of the folder. It was a black and white photo, but even from where I stood I could read every last detail of his face. I'd committed it to memory, ever since the man had slithered away from the Alliance while I took the blame for everything. Everything and anything that the Alliance was willing to admit, and then more. I had hated Benjamin Kyle with every fiber of my being.

And as I stared back at that photo, I knew that my feeling had not changed. Not one bit.

"They're all scared of you."

I look up and blink. Sis stares at me with a slightly pitying expression in her eyes. I can see it, even as she tries to hide it with sisterly concern. She folds her arms across her chest.

"What?" I asked.

"The rest of the team." Sis said. "I can't say that I blame them, John. You literally murdered a man in cold blood. The plan was to stop Project Overlord. It wasn't to play judge, jury and executioner on Dr. Archer. And I don't care what your intentions were. What the others saw was…well, it doesn't exactly dispel any preconceived opinions that they might have."

"Fuck them." I said. "I did it for David."

"Did you?" Sis asked. "Or did you do it because you wanted to? David can't talk, John. He didn't ask you to pull the trigger." She sighs. "I feel like I'm a broken record. I just hope that, now that you know just how much Miranda did for you while you weren't aware, that you go forth and deal with this. And for god's sake, make a decision on whether or not you want to do something about Benjamin. But make the decision quickly. Because we're getting close to firing up the iFF. Only a few things left to take care of…and then that's it. You might not get another chance."

She clears her throat.

"I think we're entering Tuchanka airspace. I'm going to go debrief the people I want going down on the ground. If you want to join either of the field teams, let me know. I'll have EDI check in with you." She turns around. "In the meantime, do with that information what you will."

She walks out the door, and it shuts behind her.

I sit down at the desk, and I gingerly pick up the file. It's heavier than I thought. Miranda absolutely did her homework. Or perhaps it's the knowledge of just how much she did for me that's causing me to feel a sense of regret for how I…god dammit, I can't spend my time worrying about that now. Right now, in my hands, is the fruit of her labors. I need to figure things about. I need to know what Benjamin Kyle is up to. Hell, I need to know that he's _alive._

But why can't I bring myself to open the folder?

I'm interrupted by my private thoughts by the sound of the door opening. There are footsteps, and then I hear a tired sigh as the figure takes a seat across the table from me. I look up. It isn't who I would have expected.

I stare silently, my expression impassive.

"There is something different to it, isn't there?" Thane asked. He brought a cup of tea with him, and he takes a sip of it in silence.

"What?" I asked. My tone is a little rougher than Thane probably deserved, but I guess I can't help myself at this point. Thane stares at me, with no sign of offense either way.

"The act of killing in cold blood." Thane said. "To be driven completely by vengeance, as opposed to rationalizing due to instincts of self-defense or even military orders. That was the first time you've done it completely and utterly ruthlessly, isn't it?"

"No." I said.

"I'm not sure that's the truth." Thane said. "Because even in your lowest moment, you could rationalize your other kills as a matter of circumstance." He paused. "Don't take this for a form of criticism, John." He looks concerned, in a paternal sort of way. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"What's it to you, Thane?" I asked. "I'm not worth wasting the time."

"I disagree." Thane said. "And considering I'm at the stage of my life where every second is precious, I would say that I have a slight authority on determining what is and isn't a waste of my time."

His words silence me.

The door opens again. Another pair of footsteps enter the room.

"I cannot say that I agree with your actions, Jonathan." Samara said. She chooses to stand in the corner of the room. "And, if I was being honest, I feel that my Justicar code would cause me to most likely prosecute you if not for being bound to your sister's will."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I asked.

"It is not supposed to make you feel anything." Samara said. "It is simply a statement of fact. But that is in the past right now. What remains is my promise to you."

"What promise would that be?" I asked.

"I told you at the beginning of our meditation sessions that I would stay with you, no matter the struggles, because I wished to help you. And despite your tendency to be your own worst enemy, there is a good man in you, Jonathan. And I wish to help bring him out."

"And why are you here, then, Thane?" I asked. "You don't have the time for Samara's patience."

"No, I don't." Thane admitted. "But my reasons are my reasons. I'd rather not have you sitting here, alone, in the basement of the Normandy. I'd rather be with you, even if we don't say anything to each other."

I had to admit, it was a rather flattering thought that Thane was so willing to stick around. Even if he was probably wasting what little time he had left. That was when he gestured to the door.

"Besides," He said. "We aren't supposed to be down here any longer. We need to get topside. They're waiting on us."

"They?" I asked.

"We're taking a decent amount of the specialists up to Tuchanka." Thane said. "Most are going with the Commander, to deal with Grunt. We were requested by Dr. Solus to accompany him on his personal business."

"Ok." I said. "I'll see you when you get back."

Thane stared pointedly at me.

"What?" I asked.

"When I said 'we,' I meant everyone in this room." Thane said. "Dr. Solus requested your presence, too."

"Wait, I thought that Sis said that no one wanted to have anything to do with me." I said. "Why does Mordin want me around?"

There is an awkward pause. And then Samara speaks.

"Dr. Solus has his reasons."

Well, isn't that cryptic.

…

We make our way up to the armory. And just like I thought, most everyone in the room seems to be doing their best not to interact with me more than what is absolutely necessary. Even Garrus seems somewhat disappointed in me. I guess it's because, for all of my talk into telling him that killing Sidonis wasn't going to bring anyone back, I went ahead and executed Dr. Archer without a thought in the world. And that made me a hypocrite. I understand that. Jacob hands me my dual Carnifex pistols. He cleaned them meticulously, but that's about it. He doesn't say anything. Tali seems frightened by me. Grunt doesn't seem to care that much about what I did. He shoots me a grin, and it's clear that he thinks that killing Dr. Archer made me a great and mighty warrior of a sort. And Miranda…

She won't even look at me.

Sis finishes adjusting her armor, and then looks over at us.

"Mordin, I'm going to be taking one half of the group. You have my brother, Samara, and Thane. If you need to get into radio contact with us, our codename is Hyde. You're Jekyll Team."

"Use of Stevenson novel for code name. Gave me Doctor half. Amusing, Shepard."

"I figured you'd like it." Sis said, barely able to hide her own amusement.

The ride down from the Normandy to the surface was Tuchanka was tense. The air of the depleted planet was choppy, and gusts kept shaking the little vessel like turbulence from hell. Once upon a time, Tuchanka had apparently been a fast-growing and powerful planet. Now it was a tattered and torn shell of its former self. But as I peered out the observation port, I could see that the planet still lived. The Krogans might be fucked, in the long run, but the planet would prevail.

" _Tuchanka does not have excellent encryption systems._ " EDI's voice chimes in over the intercom and into our TeamComs. " _I have discovered several references to a captured Salarian that might prove of interest to Dr. Solus. As to medical records, I fear that the Krogan are not adept at keeping copious logs. I would recommend speaking to a local clan leader about Grunt's issues._ "

"I don't have any issues except for the fact that there's not enough things to kill." Grunt grumbled.

"Behave, Grunt." Miranda said. But there was no sense of warmth or amusement to it. She basically snapped at him. And it didn't take a genius to figure out what was the issue or what was causing her to be like this. I just wanted to say something to her, but nothing could come to mind. And I doubted that she'd want to hear anything that I had to say, anyway. So I just sat there in silence.

"Who exactly would be the clan leader around here?" Garrus asked, breaking what had to be an unbearably awkward silence. Sis shrugged.

"I'm not exactly sure. I'm kind of relying on EDI for that information. Speaking of which, EDI?"

" _The area that you are heading to is one of the most stable regions on Tuchanka, and that is in no small part thanks to the efforts of the dominant clan in the area. From all reputable reports, it would appear that the dominant clan here on Tuchanka is a…clan Urdnot._ "

I saw a flash of…something…pass through Sis and Garrus' eyes. But the two of them, as well as Tali, all shared a knowing glance at one another. I normally don't like being left out of the loop, but I had a feeling that I was going to get filled in soon enough.

…

We touched down in a dilapidated landing pad, somewhere deep within the bowels of what I had to assume was once a bustling spaceport. I honestly couldn't tell. Shattered was the word that came to mind as I gazed at the jumbled assortment of buildings that littered the Tuchankan landscape.

As we got out of the Kodiak, we were accosted by two Krogan guards. They were both dressed in very stout-looking armor and were carrying a nasty set of shotguns.

"Hold up." One of them said. "You are Commander Shepard, yes?" He pointed to Sis, who nodded. "The Clan overboss would have words with you. Please make your way over to the meeting room. But be advised: you are only considered welcome here because the overboss allows it. If you fall out of favor with him, you will be lucky to make it off the planet alive."

"I'll take that into consideration." Sis said with a soft smile. But it was clear that she wasn't too worried about things.

We made our way down a winding maze of hallways, each of them poorly lit and covered in dust. There were a few Krogan patrolling, all of them clad in the same armor as the ones that stopped us. I wasn't positive, but it was pretty likely that they were all members of this clan "Urdnot." A few of them were making snide comments about Turians, timing their remarks perfectly as Garrus walked past. I noticed that our group was forming a protective circle around the Turian as we walked. I guess we were subtly making it clear that nothing was going to happen so long as Turians and Krogans didn't intermix on this planet.

The meeting room was an equally dilapidated and run-down pile of junk. There were pillars…that lay shattered on the ground. The old windows were long since blown-out. The lighting was only limited to the sunlight coming in from the crevices. And the air was thick with dust and other asbestos-related crap. I was thankful that, if we needed it, we could put on breathing apparatuses that would save us from mesothelioma or whatever airborne illnesses that this godforsaken rock had in store for us.

One of the Krogan turned towards us, and held up a hand.

"Halt! You must wait until the clan leaer summons you. He is…in talks."

The way he mentioned that last bit, it was clear that these "talks" weren't exactly going to be the most fruitful. I subtly made my way over to the side, and caught a glimpse of what was about to happen.

There were two Krogan. One of them was standing in front of what appeared to be a makeshift throne of marble and limestone, cobbled together. He was dressed in slightly different coloring than the other Krogan, and from the way he was pacing he was clearly quite agitated. I guess he was the long-suffering advisor to the clan leader.

"You know what tradition demands." He said to the Krogan before him. "Clan Urdnot must respond. Your reforms will not go unopposed. You risk appearing weak at a critical time."

The Korgan on the throne was slouching on the chair, looking utterly bored out of his mind with what his advisor was telling him. I half expected him to roll his eyes, but then something different happened.

He looked over at us.

And, honest to god, this Krogan smiled.

"Shepard!" He said, standing upright.

Sis looked at the two Krogan that were holding us back.

"Think he wants to see me now?" She asked them. "Excuse me." She side-stepped them.

The Krogan leader nonchalantly shoved aside his advisor, and met Sis in the middle. He was…he was honest to god giggling, or the Krogan equivalent, as he clasped her hand in a firm handshake.

"Shepard!" He said. "My _friend._ "

That last word caused every other Krogan in the area (with the exception of the annoyed advisor) to lower their guard. If their leader was so at ease, then they could afford that luxury too.

The Krogan looked Sis over. And then he smiled.

"You look well for dead, Shepard. Should have known that the void couldn't hold you."

This was coming from a Krogan who clearly had had a few close calls himself. His face was a litany of battle scars, and his red headmount was also dented a little bit here and there. He didn't look crippled, but he did look somewhat battle-worn. And yet still he looked like the toughest son of a bitch in the room.

"Looks like helping me destroy Saren and the Geth has worked out for you." Sis said. "Good thing that we didn't have to kill each other on Virmire."

"Hah!" The Krogan said. "Even if I tried, I imagine those two pyjacks behind you would have made it difficult for me." He looked over at Tali and Garrus. "And how are you two? Did you ever find out who would win in a fight between you and the Commander, Turian?"

"You _know_ I have a name, Wrex." Garrus said, though his exasperation was more of amusement than anything else. "And…no. No, I haven't. I've been…busy."

"Busy ducking your responsibility as a warrior, I'll bet." Wrex said. And then he turned to Tali. "My, my…" He smiled about as warmly as a Krogan can get. "You're grown up, little Tali. Last I saw you, you were a babe in the stars. Now I bet you could paint the galaxy red with idiots' blood."

"Oh, I missed you too Wrex." Tali said. "You're like the crazy Krogan uncle I never knew I had…or wanted."

"Nice to see that I haven't been forgotten by your crew, Shepard." Wrex said. He then chuckled. "Besides, you made the rise of Urdnot possible. Virmire was a turning point for the Krogan…though not everyone is happy about it."

At this, his advisor shook his head.

"Destroying Saren's genophage cure freed us from his manipulation. I used that to convince the other clans on Tuchanka to unite under the banner of clan Urdnot."

"You abandoned many traditions to get your way." The advisor said. "Dangerous."

Wrex looked over at him, his patience at an end.

 **CLUNK.**

God, that must have been a tremendously satisfying headbutt.

"Speak when spoken to, Uvenk." Wrex grumbled. "I'll drag your clan to glory whether you like it or not."

Uvenk rubbed his headplate, his ego seriously damaged. But he slunk off to the side, intent to nurse his wounded pride back to health. Sighing, Wrex walked back up the steps to his throne. He took a seat, and stood upright. It was a far cry from his boredom listening to Uvenk.

"Now, Shepard. What brings you here? How's the Normandy?"

"It was destroyed in a Collector surprise attack." Sis said. "I was spaced."

"Well, you look good." Wrex said. "Ah, the benefits of a redundant nervous system."

There was an awkward pause. Someone – it might have been Garrus – coughed.

"Yeah, humans don't have those." Sis said flatly.

"…Oh." Wrex said. "Then it must have been extremely painful." He shrugged. "But ah, well. You're standing here, and you have a nice and fancy new ship. I'd be following you like old times, but managing Tuchankan politics is a very, very, _very_ time-consuming process." He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "But all the same, it does take me back to the old days. Us against the unknown, and then killing it with really big guns. Good times."

"We were a good team, weren't we?" Sis asked, smiling as well.

"Unstoppable." Wrex concurred. He then looked over towards me. Oh boy. "And who's this Krogan pretending to be a human?"

Great. Never heard _that one_ before.

"Wrex, this is…this is my brother." Sis said. "This is John Shepard."

Wrex's eyes widened.

"Your _brother?_ "

He lets out a long and uproarious laugh.

"Oh, by the ancestors! The thought of there literally being _two_ Shepards in the galaxy is the funniest thing I can think of! Oh, if only we'd had you against Saren. That pyjack might literally have shit himself!" He looks me over. "You're pretty big for a human, there, John."

"I get told that." I said.

"Proud of your sister?" He asked.

There's a pause. When I speak, I speak from the heart.

"Immensely."

I feel a slight change in the air, at least with some of the people in the team. If nothing else, they know that I recognize the abilities of my sister.

"As you should be." Wrex said. "She's the greatest warrior I've ever known. Though you've got the look of a strong one yourself." He groans in a combination of age, relaxation, and tiredness. "But we've gotten off track. Knowing you, Shepard, there's a couple things you need to get done. It's kind of nice to be the helpful one so…what do you need?"

"I have a Krogan on my crew." Sis said. "He seems to be suffering from some sort of sickness of a sort. I figured that you'd know what's bothering him."

At this, Grunt stepped forward. Wrex leaned forward, looking at him intently.

"Where are you from, whelp?" Wrex asked. "Was your clan destroyed before you could learn what is expected of you?"

"I have no clan." Grunt said. "I was tank-bred by Warlord Okeer, my line distilled from Kredak, Moro, Shiagur—"

"You recite warlords, but you are the offspring of a syringe!" Uvenk snarled.

"I am pure Krogan." Grunt said, staring bullet holes at Uvenk. "You should be in awe."

"Okeer is an old name." Wrex said. "It is a very _hated_ name."

"He is dead." Grunt said.

"Of course." Wrex said. "You're with Shepard. How could he possibly be alive?"

"Not to cut into this Krogan history lesson and debate on what does and does not make the measure of a non-Krogan…but I need Grunt back up to speed." Sis said. "What's wrong with him?"

There is a pause.

"There is nothing wrong with him." Wrex said. "He is becoming a full adult."

There is _another_ pause as the ramifications set in.

"You mean…like puberty?" Miranda asked, finally breaking her silence.

"Adolescence?" Garrus asked. "Can't we just take him to Omega and buy him a few dances?" Sis looks at him sternly. "What? It's a totally legitimate suggestion." He holds up his hands in defense.

"I don't care what aliens call it." Wrex said, dismissively waving his hand. "Krogan undergo the Rite of Passage."

"Too far, Wrex!" Uvenk said. "Your clan may rule, but this thing is NOT Krogan!"

He stormed off.

"…Idiot." Wrex muttered. He turned back towards Grunt. "So, Grunt? Do you wish to stand with Urdnot?"

"You'll let a tank-bred Krogan join Clan Urdnot?" Sis asked. "That's remarkably progressive for a Krogan."

"He's with you. That's a good voucher." Wrex said. "Besides, you and I killed thousands like him. Not quite as big, but many. If he's still standing after the litany of adventures that you've no doubt exposed him to, then I highly doubt he's a weak whelp. Clan Urdnot is strong and the others will do what I say. They see the benefit of my vision."

"This is Grunt's choice, in the end." Sis said, stepping back.

Grunt walks away from us. He turns and stares towards the wreckage and desolation that is before him. This is what he is signing up to be part of. This is his destiny. To be a part of a broken and ruined planet. I'm honestly not sure what his decision will be.

He then turns back towards us.

"It is in my blood." He said. "It is what I am for."

"Good boy." Wrex said. There is a trace of approval in his voice. "Speak with the Shaman – he's over on the second level. He'll set you on the path…provided you give him a good show." He walks back up to his throne. He looks back at Sis. "You too, Shepard. How many times have you stepped in a mess for your crew, hmm?"

"I make it a habit." Sis said. She then raised an eyebrow. "I'm also looking for a Salarian. He was apparently captured by the Blood Pack and brought here. Know of anything?"

"I've heard a few things." Wrex admitted. "But my scout commander knows more. Speak with him near the perimeter. Most likely he's running target practice."

He cleared his throat.

"Looks like you have two things to get taken care of, Shepard." He said. "Shame that you can't be in two places at once, hmm?"

"Maybe not." Sis said. "But that doesn't mean that there can't always be a Shepard on a mission." She turns back towards the rest of us. "Dr. Solus, you may take my brother, Thane and Samara on your mission. Go see the scout commander there on the perimeter. The rest of us are going to speak with the Shaman."

"I swear to the Spirits, Shepard, if this ends up with me giving him 'The Talk'…"

We split, and our teams make their way to their respective points.

Mordin is usually a reticent fellow, but there's clearly something about this mission that is bothering him.

We reach the scout commander, who turns and looks at us with a bored expression.

"What do you want, off-worlders?" He mutters. "Wrex told me to be polite. He didn't say that I actually had to talk to you."

"We are looking for a Salarian." Thane said. "The Blood Pack captured him. Apparently, he was last seen around here."

The scout commander turns towards his terminal, and starts typing.

"I heard about that Salarian." He said. "Poor bastard. If the Blood Pack got him, then that means this is Clan Weyrloc that has him. Sent one of my scouts to check it out, but he hasn't reported back. I'm guessing that they got him too." He sighs. "Chief told me to give you one of the trucks. Follow the highway to Weyrloc's base, if you've got the quads to deal with him and the Blood Pack."

"I am certain we will manage." Samara said.

As we load into the truck, Thane gets behind the wheel. As I sit shotgun, I can't help but look over at my shoulder towards Mordin.

"Dr. Solus?"

He looks at me.

"Yes Shepard?"

"What's the purpose of this rescue mission?" I ask.

He stares at me with the most firm and resolute glare that I've ever seen out of the old man.

"To correct an age-old mistake, Shepard."

Wow. Join the party, pal.

A/N: The story continues...


	39. And so He must be Silenced

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

I wonder if Tuchanka was beautiful, once upon a time.

The highway is grey and pockmarked with damage, both from the passage of time and from other decidedly unnatural means. The sky is a haze of brown and grey, with a dusty wind kicked up that makes visibility difficult. It's like driving through a particularly persistent sandstorm, with the possibility of a lightning strike every now and then. I remember the temperature was dropping when we made our way out to the truck that the Krogan scout commander lent us, and I am thankful for the climate control functions within this rust bucket of a vehicle.

Thane drives expertly, avoiding any major potholes in the road. That's not to say that it was a completely bump-free ride. Periodically, there was a bang and a shudder as we managed to make it through some particularly damaged roadspace. Sitting next to me, Samara is sitting with her legs crossed. She seems regal and serene, as though the hellish landscape that we're chugging through does not faze her in the slightest. Mordin is running some calculations on his omnitool, and after a few moments of silent analysis he speaks up.

"Will be close to evening soon. Temperature already dropping. Would recommend activating climate control features."

Wordlessly, Thane and Samara flash a slight shade of blue. Lucky biotic bastards. They can literally heat themselves up or cool off with a simple thought. I have to tough it out like the rest of us normals out there without biotic implants or plain ol' biotic grace. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have another level of control and ability beyond simple touch and reaction; then again, perhaps it's for the best that I don't have that additional level of power. I literally cannot conceive of how that works. And if I can't even conceive of it, then I probably shouldn't waste my time thinking about how I'd go about using it.

Of course, personalized climate control would be a nice thing.

Thankfully, Jacob had packed the armory with weather-appropriate clothing when we were all loading for the descent. Those of us that didn't have biotics (ie. Sis and I) had been given thick, winter editions of the dusters that I enjoyed wearing around most of the time. I also had a scarf hidden in one of the inside pockets, just to make sure I wasn't going to completely freeze. Finally, a pair of gloves and some goggles in case things got hard to see. Tuchankan sand storms were apparently nothing to mess with.

It's funny. I would have thought that the planet would be hot all of the time. But as I see the windows of the truck starting to frost over a little bit, I shiver involuntarily and thank Jacob for packing additional things for us.

There's a rumble in the distance. I'm not sure what it is. But it doesn't sound like it's anywhere near nor does it have anything to do with us. I'm vaguely relieved, though I'm not sure why that is.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that that involved Commander Shepard." Thane said. "But then again…"

"It is a fair assumption." Samara said. "Usually the Commander increases the likelihood of loud noises and explosions in any given area she frequents."

"I'm gonna tell her you all said that." I said, making sure that my gloves were on and the scarf was wrapped around my neck properly. "And I think she's going to find it very hurtful."

"This is the place." Mordin said. "Disengage the truck just outside the area. Best to go on foot."

…

We all exit the truck, and the sudden chill gets to just about all of us. Nuclear winter can be finicky, I suppose. For all I know, Sis and the others are sweating out the rotten heat. I can only imagine Miranda sweating and-

I shake the thought out of my head with a mournful sigh. Whatever likelihood of seeing that went out the window, I fear.

We slowly make our way through the outside of what was probably a hospital compound a long time ago. Well before the bombs that turned everything into a mishmash of destroyed, debris, and destroyed debris. There are a couple of Varren that are gnawing on some long-dead carcass, and when they smell our fresh scent in the air they turn towards us with their teeth bared. A single shot to the temple of both, and their carcasses join the one that they'd been feasting on.

"That body has been there for a while." Thane observed quietly. "If it was fresh, then the Varren might not have even bothered us."

"Maelon been here a while." Mordin spoke quietly. He was always very difficult to read, but in that moment Dr. Solus seemed somewhat…disappointed. I wasn't quite sure how to quantify it. But he seemed let down.

It occurred to me in that moment, as we made our way through the opening entrance of the base, that I had no idea as to who or what this "Maelon" was and, more importantly, _why_ I was going along with Dr. Mordin Solus in the middle of a nuclear winter on a planet version of Australia. Except at least in Australia the people were nice and the beaches were pretty. I imagine even the beaches would try to kill you on Tuchanka. But it was clear, from the way he looked down the sights of his weapons, that he was in no mood for discussion of the sort. It was clear that it would have to wait. But I made a mental note. I am a patient man…up to a certain point.

If Mordin got us into the deep without a life jacket, then I'll be damned if I didn't exercise my right to know just what fresh hell he'd gotten us into.

We walked into the stairwell of what appeared to be a massive, concrete bunker system. Mordin was the first to speak.

"Repurposed Krogan hospital." He said. "Sturdy. Built to withstand punishment."

Much like the creatures that live on this planet, it would appear.

"In my experience, hospitals are never a particularly appealing place to engage in combat." Thane said. At this, Samara looked over at him.

"That statement suggests that there _are_ appealing places to fight in?" She asked.

There was an awkward pause. Thane looked somewhat sheepish.

"It was…a point of discussion between myself and Mr. Vakarian during a late-night round of sharpshooting."

"Am interested to hear this." Mordin said. He was allowing himself a smile. No doubt because it was a rare chance to get one over on Thane, of all people. Thane sighed.

"Mr. Vakarian stated that his favorite places to fight were in gardens, electronic stores, and antique stores." He paused. "But only if the antiques are classy."

"You bringing all of this up suggests that you have favorite spots to fight in too, you know." I said, unable to resist chiming in.

"I might have agreed with Mr. Vakarian on the antique preference."

I laugh outright, while the normally-reserved Samara cracked a slight smile. Mordin, also thoroughly amused, leads us down the walkway.

…

Our smiles fade when we see what is at the bottom of the stairwell. There is a body there. It is facing away from us, but there is no doubt its origin and species.

"That body. Human. Need to take a look." Mordin said. Within moments, he is kneeling beside the body and running diagnostic scans. He sighes and shakes his head. "Sores. Tumors, ligatures showing restraints at wrists and ankles. Track marks for repeated injection sites." Mordin shakes his head. "Test subject. Victim of experimentation."

"Test subject? For what?" I asked. "A human vaccine?"

"Unfrotunately no." Mordin said. "Most likely conclusion? Krogan used human to test genophage vaccine."

"The fuck?" I managed to sputter. "Are they trying to turn us into bioweapons? Is it contagious?"

"No." Mordin said. "Appears to be cultivation of canerous cells, aggratvated by torture, malnourishment. Not a virus."

"Oh, that's so much better." I said.

I take a look at the poor sod before us. If anything, maybe it's a good thing that he didn't live. Because from a cursory glance at the injection sites that litter his body, it's clear that his continued existence would have been very painful. But then something hits me.

"Wait, why the hell are Krogan using humans to test out a genophage cure?" I asked. "I thought the whole point was to cure _Krogan_ infertility, not human infertility."

Though, admittedly, that sounds like more of a ringing endorsement for humanity than I'm willing to own up to. So I trail off.

"Humans useful as test subjects." Mordin said. "Genetically diverse. Enable exploitation of treatment modalities."

You know, I might know what he's saying if I had a PhD.

"…I think that he means that…humans are special." Samara offers, no doubt sensing my intellectual inferiority. "Your species is far more adaptable than many of the species in Council space. I think that that is the primary gist of it. Admittedly, I am not as versed in biology as Dr. Solus."

"An apt summation, nonetheless." Mordin said, continuing to look at the body.

"Experimenting on humans sounds like something that would vaguely, and I say this very half-heartedly, make me consider the positives of Cerberus." I said.

"Never used humans myself." Mordin said. "Disgusting. Unethical. Sloppy!" He seems surprisingly agitated. "Used by 'brute force' researchers, not thinkers. Has no place in proper science."

"But experimentation on other species _does?_ " I asked. Mordin looks at me briefly, but does not respond. Figures. I caught him in a little ethical quandary there. He obviously needed some time for a proper retort.

"Dr. Solus, we are not quite as privy to your history as Commander Shepard is." Thane said. "What exactly is your connection with the genophage? Why is the finding of your research assistant so important?"

"Understandable questions." Mordin said. "See no problem in divulging. Was one of the primary scientists behind the 'new' genophage." He seems to betray no concern with this last line.

"The _new_ genophage?" I asked. "I thought that the genophage was a mass scourge sort of thing."

"Seem somewhat unfamiliar with biology, Specialist Shepard."

"Don't fucking patronize me."

"Jonathan, please." Samara said. She turned to Mordin. "What exactly necessitated the 'new' genophage?"

"Far too difficult to answer in short go." Mordin said. "Must focus on task at hand. Will gladly educate when moment arises."

Somehow that felt like an artful dodge to the question. But for now we let it slide. Thane looks over at the body.

"What can you tell us about their experiments, or does the body not present an adequate measure?" Thane asked.

"Position of tumors suggests deliberate mutation of adrenal and pineal glands." Mordin began. He's starting to speak on my level again. I _was_ a medic, after all. Not a great one, but better than Janey if nothing else.

"So they were hitting the hormone levels?" I asked. "Did the original genophage have something to do with hormone production?"

"Good guess." Mordin said. "Genophage tactically aimed at critical Krogan glands, all necessary to reproduction. Conceptually sound. Though evidence in this body suggests…hm." He trails off. "Unlikely that Krogan scientists came up with such notion themselves. Most likely got it out of their helper."

"That of course being your former assistant." Samara said.

"Very likely hypothesis." Mordin concludes. He grimly put away his omnitool, and stood up at the ready. "Focus on mission for Maelon. Cannot help the dead."

Maybe so. But we can certainly avenge them.

…

I am unnerved by how creepily quiet this entire base is. I think I can count on one hand the number of Krogan that we have found. And they were all easy to dispatch. There's no sense of communication. No sense of unity. They're a broken lot, running around and presuming to be in a better place than they actually are. I feel like the four of us are little more than a mop-up crew after an apocalypse.

Then again, the Krogan had a nuclear winter _before_ the first contact with the Salarians. I guess we're even further after the apocalypse.

Thane, who up to this point had been the leading point man for the unit, suddenly pauses. He gestures urgently up to a balcony before us. We have our weapons at the ready, as a trio of Krogan walk out to see us. They're dressed in rudimentary battle armor. They look, even by Krogan standards, somewhat pathetic.

"Consider this a friendly warning, outsiders!" The middle one booms. He carries himself like he's Urdnot Wrex. "We will forgive your many transgressions against Clan Weyrloc, and we will allow you to flee like the pyjack meat you are."

"Those are remarkably fair terms for Krogan Blood Pack." I said. "What's the catch?"

"That you spread the word!" The Krogan in the center said. "Clan Weyrloc stands on the precipice of a Golden Age! One that will lift us from the dust and right into the center of the galactic empire!"

I bet five hundred credits that this poozer couldn't name one of the Council Members. Even if I spotted him three of them.

"When we cure the Genophage, Clan Weyrloc Guld will rule all Krogan! The Krogan Rebellions will become the Krogan Empire! The surviving races will frighten their children will tales of what the Blood Pack did to the Turians!"

Okay, nice speech. Now let's move on.

"The Asari will scream as their precious Citadel plunges into the sun! We will keep salarians as slaves and eat their eggs as a delicacy!"

Wasn't aware that Salarians reproduced by egg, but the more you know. Anyway, time to butt in-

"The humans will be hitched to plows, and step by step will rebuild the shattered visage of Tuchanka by mining every last strip of land and resource from their pathetic planet known as Terra!"

Dude. You're starting to get on my nerves.

"And when the dust settles, and the rivers of blood run dry, finally the galaxy will recognize the might of the Krogan! They will bow before us! For I am the Clanspeaker of the Weyrloc Clan! Of Weyrloc Guld! I am the voice of the future! I am the future and the speaker of all that shall come before-"

"Stop talking."

I raise my gun simultaneously as I speak. I fire a single round. I hits somewhere beneath the speaker. He flinches, and then looks down at us. He grins derisively.

"See? The human cannot hit a simple target!"

Except I wasn't aiming for you, fat boy. I was aiming for that propane tank that you were kind enough to stand directly above like a doofus. Well, I suppose the Darwin Awards can be applied to xenobiology too.

I fire again. Twice to be sure.

The white-hot rounds ignite the gas, creating a cascade of flame and heat that envelops the poor Krogan. He howls in pain as the fire consumes him. But then the heated air seems to rush through the balcony. There is a series of explosions, far more than I expected. And then a chain reaction of explosions triggers through the atrium. Samara, Thane, Mordin and I all duck for cover as the upper floor seems to explode before us. I think I hear a few Krogan scream as they're also the victims of the fusillade of fire and death above us.

And then, almost as soon as it started, it's all over.

There is a painfully awkward silence. Slowly, I peek my head out from cover. I leapt away from the others, so I don't actually know if they're okay or not-

"Three bullets. How in the name of _Kalahira_ did you manage to do that with **three bullets?** "

I can only shrug. What can I say?

Butchers are messy.

A/N: A holiday season present for you. Hope you enjoyed this short little number. See you next time!


	40. First Rule: Do No Harm

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

It was the sudden silence in the immediate aftermath of an explosion that knocks you for a loop almost as badly as the initial boom. Don't get me wrong, the explosion itself definitely knocks you silly. But the immediate silence? That shit is _weird._

I can feel my ears ringing slightly as I pick myself up off of the ground, while the others are much better at getting up. I imagine that Thane and Samara are better equipped at avoiding equilibrium disruption, because they can self-generate biotic fields. Mordin probably just wears earplugs. Stupid old me went and forgot them. Hope that I can still hear in fifty years.

If I make it that long.

"Rather…crude method of dealing with problem, but satisfactory." Mordin said. "Should move quickly. No doubt explosion will attract curious sentries."

"And I doubt that there will be a multitude of gas lines to take advantage of." Samara said.

"This _is_ Tuchanka, Samara." Thane said.

I catch a somewhat amused smile shared between the two of them. They bicker like two very old friends. It makes me wonder what it is about Thane that keeps Samara from trying to kill him outright. I've since done my homework on the Justicar order: it's about as extremely tautological as one can get. An assassin would absolutely be in their crosshairs. But Thane? Somehow he avoids the wrath of Samara. Perhaps it has something to do with the manner in which he handles his jobs. I suppose if you wanted to twist it enough, an assassin removing an evil target from the galaxy might "pass" the Justicar code. Or maybe Thane really is that charming.

Mordin leads us up the stairwell, where we gingerly step over the smoking remains of the dead Krogan. I make a point to step _on_ the Krogan, and he nearly disintegrates into ash. Geez, that must have been some _really_ strong gas line that he got hit with. I'd almost feel sorry for him if he wasn't such a colossal idiot.

Mordin swiftly breaks the lock, and we enter a room with a couple of functioning pieces of technology. Apparently the Krogan out here in the boonies aren't completely luddites.

"Active console. May contain useful data." Mordin said. "One moment."

He starts typing through the console, and within moments he's clearly pulling up information. He starts speaking to himself, but it's clearly of high interest to him.

"Genetic sequences. Hormone mutagens still steady. Protein chains, live tissue, clean and cloned tissue…Very thorough." He looks over at me. "Standard treatment vectors. Avoiding scorched-earth immunosuppresants to alter hormone levels. Good. Hate to see that."

It takes me a moment to figure out what he's getting on about. I may have been a medic, but I'm definitely not a theoretist. For a moment, I'm back in Alliance med school, learning the ins and outs of human biology and how it reacts to certain elements and to certain medicines. But eventually, I manage to put two and two together…and it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Most people wouldn't be so casual about developing a sterility plague, Mordin." I said. There's a definite acidity to my words, and I don't bother to hide it. Samara and Thane stare somewhat awkwardly at the two of us.

"Not developing." Mordin said. " _Modifying._ Much more difficult. Working within confines of existing genophage. A hundred times the complexity."

Before my sneer can widen, he's still going on.

"Errors unacceptable." He said. "Could cause _total_ sterility. Mialignant tumors. Could even reduce effectiveness. Worse than doing nothing. Had to keep Korgan population stable. One in one thousand. Perfect target, optimal growth. Like gardening."

"Are you seriously comparing living beings to gardening?" I asked, barely able to hide my disgust.

"Could have _eradicated_ Krogan!" Mordin said. "Not difficult. Increased mutation to degrade genetic structures further. Chose not to."

"How very magnanimous of you." I said. He seemed to sense that I was no longer on his side, and his next words were somewhat defensive.

"Rachni extinction tragic. Didn't want to repeat. All life precious. Universe demands diversity."

"Pretty your words up however you like." I said. "You're talking about murdering millions."

"No." Mordin said firmly. "Murdered no one. Altered fertility. Prevented fetal development of nervous system." He looked me in the eye. "Have killed many, Shepard. Many methods. Gunfire, knives, drugs, tech attacks, once with farming equipment. But _not_ with medicine."

He stares at me, thinking that he's absolved himself. But I can see it, buried deep within those eyes of his. A faint flicker of defensiveness. A faint little glimmer of something that I've felt for a very long time.

Guilt.

I could be the sort to brush over that, and not rip open the wound. But I'm the knife-twisting asshole of the family, after all.

"Right. Didn't murder anyone with medicine. Simply pre-empted life with medicine. Totally different things."

I turn around, no longer bothering to look him in the eye. What a pathetic creature, this Mordin Solus. So long insulated in a lab that he's forgotten how mere mortals work and think. Or, perhaps, he hasn't _forgotten_ and he simply won't admit to what the truth is.

Samara gently tries to place her hand on my shoulder as a means to get me to move on, but I still can't resist another dig.

"The genophage certainly allows Tuchanka to look nice and pretty."

"Fallacious argument." Mordin countered. Finally, I can detect some annoyance in his tone. "Genophage medical, not nuclear. No craters from virus. Damage caused by Krogan. Not salarians. Not me."

Whatever. Let him stew. Let him deny. Because I've been down this road before. Continuing to put off responsibility. Continual refusal to acknowledge demons. All in all, all that it takes to break the illusion is one thing. Doesn't have to be big. But realization of our guilt is a lot like gravity: all it takes is a little push.

Shortly after we left that console room, Mordin got that push.

…

It was deathly and eerily quiet in the hospital as we made our way down towards the depths of the catacombs and antechambers. There was only a soft humming from life support systems and a few consoles and lights here and there. Nothing else. It was quiert enough to unnerve the dead. There were so few Krogan down here. There was so little life down here. There was only death.

And on an operating table, we saw her.

It was a Krogan body, that much was certain. But the gender wasn't immediately clear. It was only after Mordin picked up the datapad next to her and started speaking did the sad story become clear.

"Dead Krogan." He said. "Female. Tumors indicate experimentation. No restraint marks. Volunteer." There's a sense of clinical finality to the words he sopeaks. But then he leans over the table, staring at her corpse. There's a sense of wistfulness to his words that follow. "Sterile Weyrloc female willing to risk procedures. Hoped for cure…Pointless. Pointless waste of life."

And something in me snaps.

"Bothered by the sight of a dead Krogan?" I asked. I gesture towards the body. "Here be thy work, Ozymandias. Gaze upon it, ye mighty."

"What? _No!_ Not my work. Causative. Never experimented on live Krogan." Mordin said. "Never killed with medicine. Her death not my work, only reaction to it."

He looks over the table again.

"Goal was to stabilize population. Never wanted this. Can see it logically…but still unnecessary. Foolish waste of life. Hate to see it."

"You're speaking like a scientist." I said, barely controlling my contempt. "So for once in your life do me a favor and stop. Stop thinking like a scientist." I walk close to him, and put a hand over his shoulder. "This right here is a woman. And she doesn't give a shit about any of your protein chains or amino acid build-ups or your causative response or any of that bullshit. You know what drove her to come to this fucked up place, where death was all but a certainty?" I wait a moment before I sneer it in her ear. "She came here because she thought there was a chance she could _save her baby._ "

There's a deadly, cold silence. I step back a bit, and cross my arms over my chest.

"Ever come back to Tuchanka?" I asked.

"Yearly recon missions." Mordin said after a moment of silence. "Water, tissue samples. Ensure no mistakes. Superiors offered to carry it on. Refused. Need to see it in person." He takes a deep breath through his nose. "Need to look. Need to see. Accept it as necessary. See small picture. Remind myself why I run a clinic on Omega."

And it all clicks to me. I can't stop myself from smiling in triumph. However, it isn't necessarily a nice triumph.

"I fucking knew it. You _do_ feel guilt."

"John, for the sake of variety, perhaps you might not feel the need to continually browbeat Dr. Solus?" Samara asked.

"You are hardly one to espouse from a position of moral hierarchy when it comes to killing."

"Oh _bull_ shit, and you know it." I said. I turn towards the three of them. "There are four people in this room. One is an assassin, one's a Justicar, and one's…a war criminal." I say with a sense of resignation. "And the fourth is a doctor. The only difference here is that the three of us _know_ what we are. We accept it." I point to Thane. "You kill people for your living. You might try to frame it one way, but you accept that you are a killer." I point to Samara. "You kill in the pursuit of justice. Maybe harsh as hell, but you've never shied from it." I point to myself, and sigh again. "And I'm going to burn for what I did on Torfan."

But then I slowly turn towards Mordin.

"You're the only one here who won't accept responsibility for his body count." I said. "But I guess that makes sense. The three of us combined? We couldn't _possibly_ match the number of lives that you've ended or prevented from existence."

I turn towards the Krogan mother, and I place a hand next to her. I wonder what she would have named her baby. But then the thought is gone. I turn towards the others.

"Let's just get the fuck out of here and find Maelon."

…

We keep walking towards the bowels of this hospital. Before long, I can sense the fact that we're right outside the place where Maelon works.

Then I hear the tell-tale sign of a racked shotgun.

"Don't move, offlanders."

We turn to see a sickly Krogan sitting indian style in the corner of the room. He's holding a shotgun, and his markings are clear and distinct. It's the lost Urdnot scout that the chief had abandoned for dead.

"Easy, there." Thane said. "We mean no harm."

"You're threatening the work of the genophage curer." The scout said. "I can't let you pass."

I don't have time for this.

"Look, pal. If we wanted to kill him we'd have called in an orbital strike that would have wiped this hospital into a fine dust. We just want to talk to him. Now move aside and report back to base. Your scout captain needs you."

"…I can't go back. I…I think I can do some good here." The scout said.

Oh god, did he seriously turn Manchurian candidate in this short of time.

"I'm…not big enough to have a real shot with the females." The scout said. "I'll never have kids of my own. But if I helped end the genophage…then I'll have mattered!"

"Yeah, for the Weyrloc clan, dumbass." I said. "You're not helping Clan Weyrloc. You're destroying it." When all else fails, resort to pride in culture. It works.

"But…no. No, they said I was helping Urdnot!"

I've got him now. But just in case…

"If you want to help Urdnot, you need to get back there." I pause. "…But it would take a real badass to get back there while injured."

"I can do it." The scout said, though his nerve wasn't the best. So I decide to be what I'm the best at being.

An asshole.

"You?" I asked, not bothering to hide my contempt. "I said a 'badass,' not some scout whining like a quarian with a tummyache.

"I can do it. I'm up!" The scout said. "And I'm going to the female camp!"

"Damn right you are!" I said. "Get back there and show them what you're made of. Now GO!"

"RAARRRR!" He roared. He got up, and with surprisingly agility stumbled down the hallway back the way we came. We leave him to his fate. Hope the dumb bastard makes it back in one piece.

…

Inside the room there is a massive console, with a solitary figure in front of it. He is quietly plugging in equations and work. It's clearly complex stuff. The salarian doesn't even notice us as we enter the room. But then Mordin finds his words.

"…Maelon. Alive. And unharmed." He raised an eyebrow. "No signs of restraint, no evidence of torture…Don't understand."

I do, sadly. I guess the good doctor isn't as smart as he thinks.

"For such a smart man, professor, you always had trouble seeing evidence that disagreed with your preconceptions."

Maelon has a snappy voice, and a sharp personality to boot. He's a bit redder than Mordin, and certainly more youthful in appearance. At least for a salarian, anyway. He turns around to face us.

"How long will it take you to admit that I'm here because I wish to be here!" He snapped.

"The Blood Pack never kidnapped him." Samara said, finally. "He went to them. He's working on a cure, voluntarily."

"Contacts said he was with Blood Pack. Assumed. But why? Never argued with necessity of genophage." Mordin turned to face Maelon.

"How was _I_ supposed to disagree with 'the great Doctor' Solus?" Maelon snarled. "I was your student! I looked up to you!"

"Experiments performed here." Mordin said. "Live subjects! Prisoners! Torture and executions. All your doing?" He's the angriest I've ever seen.

"We've already got the blood of millions on our hands, Doctor. If it takes a few more to put things right, I can live with that!" Maelon said. He looked at us. "We committed cultural _genocide!_ Yes, the experiments here are monstrous…but that's because I was taught to _be_ a monster! You taught me that the ends justified the means, Doctor. I will undo what we did, professor. The only way I know how!" He's positively screaming now. "Don't you _see?_ We tried to play **god,** and we _**failed!**_ We only made things worse! I'm going to fix it!"

"We knew the world would not be the same." I find myself speaking. "A few people laughed. A few people cried. Most people were silent. I remember the verse from the Hindu scripture the Bhagavad-Gita. Vishnu was trying to persuade the prince that he should do his duty and, to impress him, takes on his multi-armed form and says: 'Now I am Become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds.'"

There's a pause.

"Dr. Oppenheimer." Mordin said quietly.

"This whole damned mission is nothing but a ethical sinkhole." I said. "And I'm already drowning in enough regret to add this to it." I turn towards the others. "We're shutting this down."

"You can't face the truth, can you?" Maelon shouted. He draws a pistol and shakily points it towards us. "Can't admit that your brilliant mind led you to commit an atrocity!"

But he was talking too long. Mordin closes the gap and punches him flush in the jaw. And then he takes Maelon's pistol and points it at the younger Salarian's jaw.

"Unethical experiments. Unethical goals. No choice. Have to kill you."

He's about to pull the trigger.

And something tells me to stop him.

So I draw my own gun and put it at the back of Mordin's head.

"Let him go, Mordin." I said.

"Hardly in position to negotiate morality when pointing a gun at head, Shepard." Mordin said coolly.

"I'm already burning." I said. "But you're not a cold-blooded killer. You're just…detached. Way too detached for any being in my life but…if you kill Maelon now, he's gonna haunt your dreams for the rest of your life."

Mordin considers it in silence. And then he lowers the gun.

"Get moving, prick." I said towards Maelon, threateningly pointing the gun towards his face. He gives a little squeak of fright, and then turns towards Mordin.

"Where will I go, professor?"

"Don't care." Mordin said. "Try Omega. Could always use another clinic."

"The Krogan didn't deserve what we did to them, professor." Maelon said. "The genophage needs to end."

He walked away.

Mordin stares at the immense firewall of data in front of him. I know that he's thinking about torching it all. It's great data…but it's unethical in how it was acquired. Nothing but pain and misery led to this crystalline science. In the end, it's on the doctor to make the choice.

He presses a button on his omnitool, and the data all flows into his own personal computers.

"…My responsibility." He said quietly. He turns around and walks towards the door, with the rest of us to follow. He mutters something else, and I feel that only I am able to hear it.

"…My burden to carry."


	41. Breaking Point

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

We drove back to base in silence, other than some muted conversation here and there. There wasn't really that much to say. Mordin was sitting in the back of the truck, quietly fiddling with the data that he'd just downloaded onto the omnitool. I wonder what's going through his mind. I know that Salarians think faster (on average) than your typical being; it's entirely possible that he's thought about every ethical dilemma that his choices have resulted in since we got on the truck. But as I steal a glance back at him, I see that there is something decidedly…introspective about how he is carrying himself. He's thinking. And that's somewhat…unsettling.

I shake off my thoughts and look back towards the front, and towards the future of it all.

…

We arrive back at the Urdnot base some time after dusk has fallen. There are fires burning to keep people warm, and I can hear a sense of merriment echoing throughout the camp. Something big must have happened. I'm guessing that it had to do with the massive explosions that we all heard while we were out and investigating what happened to Dr. Solus' former associate. Knowing Janey, it had to be something big.

As the truck parks itself into the Urdnot motorpool, we all look at each other and nod. The job is over. The mission is accomplished. And, as conflicted as he might be, Dr. Solus seems to be at peace. I wonder if, being a Salarian, he just processes things faster than us humans or other sentient beings do. It's somewhat…unnerving. He's humming to himself as we leave the truck. Thane thanks the Krogan captain that loaned it to us, and we begin walking towards the sounds of the partying.

"Something great and mighty must have occurred." Samara said, looking up towards the multi-leveled building that serves as the Urdnot base camp. "Usually Krogan nightly celebrations are more…subdued."

"And you know this…how?" I asked. I shiver a little bit. Even with the extra layers of clothing, a Tuchanken night is utterly miserable. Samara just turns to look at me.

"Before I was a Justicar, I experienced many things in the galaxy."

She smirks. It's both the most out-of-character and terrifying thing that I've seen her do. Thane walks up behind me, chuckles, and claps me on the shoulder.

"Don't forget, John: Asari live a long time. She has more experience than you might think."

"That's what frightens me, to be honest." I said. Thane just shakes his head with a light smile, and clears his throat. "Samara, if you don't mind…" He offers his overcoat to her, revealing his typical duster and apparel underneath. She smiles.

"Very chivalrous of you, Thane. Thank you." She takes the coat, and walks up a stairwell where two Krogan Urdnot grunts stand guard. They both nod respectfully towards the Justicar, and let her pass without an issue.

Sometimes it feels like Thane and Samara are an old married couple. The fact that they are such good friends despite being literally on opposite ends of the spectrum – an assassin for hire and a Templar-like justice bringer – is evidence of some sort of galactic mystery.

Or maybe I just need a warm drink at this point. That might be it.

When we open the doors to the main antechamber where the music is loudest, we are treated to quite the sight. There are several bonfires going, with Krogan drinking and dancing… _dancing_ and singing (hilariously off-key). I see that a few of the Normandy crew have gotten in on the festivities…What the hell happened while we were gone?

I see Sis, Garrus, and Tali are sitting off to the side. Pretty much everyone else is working on something else: Jack is arm-wrestling with some Krogan pyjack. Kasumi is flitting in and out of the action, Jacob is engaged in a push-up contest with a few Krogan, Zaeed is chatting with a few of the others…this is weird. I feel less like I've entered a warzone and more like I'm in the middle of a wedding reception.

I walk up to Garrus, and clear my throat to get his attention and that of the others. He looks at us, and raises an eyebrow.

"Take care of everything that you needed to take care of?" He asked. I look back towards Thane and Samara, who have quietly made their way off to a more subdued group of people, and Mordin…who is frittering away at some console nearby instead of partaking in the festivities. I look towards Garrus.

"Yeah." I said. "Yeah. It's been a helluva day, though."

At this, Garrus scoffs. That's when I see him closer. The light made it hard to see at first, but as my eyes adjust I can see that he's taken a hell of a beating. He's covered in dust and dirt and some blood. I look closely at the others that were here, and I see that they are all in varying degrees of injured or battered. Even Tali seems to be beaten down.

"Garrus…what the hell happened?" I managed to ask.

"We had to initiate Grunt into manhood." Garrus said, pointing to the aforementioned Krogan who was in the center of a very impressed throng of Krogan. "He's officially a member of Clan Urdnot."

"And…how did that come about?" I asked.

"We had to kill anything that moves on this damned planet." Tali's voice is the epitome of _over it_. "My ears are still ringing from those damned bells."

"What did you have to deal with?" I asked.

"Everything." Garrus said. "Varren packs, some weird-looking Rachni offshoots, some _actual_ Rachni…and a Thresher Maw."

Wait, **what?**

"A…Thresher Maw?" I asked. "What the fuck?"

"You're better off not knowing." Garrus said. "Just…it was tough. Literally all hands on deck." He shook his head. "Everyone's a little banged up. Some worse than others."

"Me too, you know!"

Sis seems somewhat defensive. Garrus just…glares at her.

"You have no right to say anything, _Commander_."

Holy shit, Garrus referred to her by her title. What the hell happened?

"Garrus?"

"Yeah?"

"Did she get hurt?"

"…"

"Garrus?"

"…Hurt is a bit of a stretch."

"This is painful, fuck you!"

"…Garrus?"

"…Yes, John?"

"What did my sister do? Did she get beaten up by the Thresher Maw?"

"…No."

"This was not one of my best moments."

"We _know_ that, Shepard."

"Didn't ask you, Tali!"

"Please." I said. "What did she do?"

"Concussed herself."

"…How?"

Sis looked over at me, an ashamed look on her face, and then looks away. Garrus sighs.

"She headbutt a Krogan."

Next to us, the Urdnot clan shaman sips from his mug of Ryncol, and chuckles approvingly.

"It's like I said. I _like_ this human. She _understands!_ "

…

Some time later, as the festivities continue, I cannot help but find myself drifting off to the side. I might like drinking with a few friends, but I was never a big fan of massive get-togethers like this. It's something that I've had a problem with ever since…well, since before Torfan, I suppose. I've gotten a little better at it, but right now I suppose I just want to be left off to the side. I would like to be alone.

But then I see her.

She's a little tousled, but not as badly beaten down as, say, Zaeed. She's by herself, also walking through the edge of the party. She's not really all that comfortable, either. Wearing a thick coat to cover up, because even mass effect fields can't block out all of the cold. And she's also walking in my general direction. I don't think that she sees me.

Do I say anything? Or do I just let her pass me by?

"Miranda."

She was about five feet in front of me when I managed to squeak out her name. She looks at me with…I don't know even know what it was that her look was. It wasn't anger. It wasn't disgust. It was something else. Something that cut me a little bit deeper than that. She doesn't say anything. She just turns to walk and keep going.

"Miranda, wait."

I get up off of the ammo crate that I've been sitting on, and walk after her. She starts to quicken her pace a little bit, but then she stops walking. And she turns around. She stares at me with a cold, expressionless look in her eyes. She's tapping her foot, expectantly. She isn't going to speak first, that much is sure.

The only problem is, I don't know where to begin.

"Can…can we talk?" I asked.

"You can." She said. There's a layer of ice in her tone of voice that unnerves me. "I'm not sure that I have anything to say, myself."

"Please." I said. "I…I know that you have every right to hate me. I just…I just don't think that…"

"Don't think that what?" She asked. She's getting frustrated with me. I can tell. If I don't say something, then she's going to storm off and the moment will be lost forever.

"I don't want you to hate me. I just don't want you to cut me out of your life completely without at least letting me explain myself. You…you deserve that much."

She turns a little bit to face me more directly. She has her arms crossed over her chest. She's silent. She's waiting.

"I know that I should have just brought him in." I said. "And I know that he was someone that you admired. And I can't take it back." I know I'm rambling, but I keep going. "I just saw what he did to David…and I saw red. I just…I couldn't let someone like that get away with it. No matter how smart he was, or how visionary he was…or whatever. I couldn't let someone do something so monstrous and walk away. Because I saw myself in him." I said.

There is an impossibly long silence.

"What do you mean?" She finally asks.

"I was the same." I said. "I wanted things done, damned be the cost. When the Boss died, I…" I trail off. It's the first time that I've ever mentioned this vocally. It might be the first time that I've ever even said anything about it.

"Who?" Miranda asked.

"Flight Commander Lori Allen." I manage to choke out her name. "I was Venom. Kyle was Flyboy. And she…she was Mercury. We called her Mercury Lady."

The words catch in my throat. The flood of memories come roaring back. Not just things that Samara managed to tease out with weeks of therapy, but also countless memories that I thought I'd suppressed with years of booze and drugs and self-hate. They all hit me at once. I hear the screams. I hear the chaos and terror. I see her blood-stained uniform.

I fall to my knees, sobbing.

I half expected her to walk away, right then and there.

And I'm right.

I sit there in silence, away from the warmth and laughter. And I'm just crying. Why can't I just stop?

"John."

It's Jane. I look up at her from the dirt, seeing her concerned face. Miranda stands next to her. They're both looking at me. Not judging, though I feel ashamed that they see me like this.

But there's two things that I can do at this point. I can stay here on my knees, crying like a pathetic wretch. That's what I can do and what I've been doing a pretty damn good job of right now.

But I know what I need to do.

I get up.

I brush myself off.

I wipe my eyes.

And I look Miranda in the eyes.

"Give her everything that you've got."

And then I look at my sister. I take a deep breath. And then I say what needed to be said years ago.

"I need to take care of something that's been eating at me. It's time to stop running. Take me to Benjamin Kyle."


	42. Convergence

A/N: It took me a long time to write this one.

I feel ashamed for having ever doubted or distrusted Miranda.

I also feel somewhat terrified.

We are in the briefing room, which Sis has cordoned off from the rest of the ship so that no one, not even the other specialists if she so chose, can come in and see what it is that we are doing. There are piles and piles of papers, both official and otherwise, that are neatly placed in crates across the table. And at the far end of the room is a holographic projector board. It is utterly mind-boggling, and I almost feel slightly light-headed. Over the course of a few weeks (if that), Miranda Lawson has unearthed a ghost.

"…This is everything." Miranda said finally, after bringing in one last crate of evidence. "Part of what made it so difficult is that I had to track down records that aren't 'in the cloud,' so to speak. There's a lot of old-school paperwork and cables that the Alliance only recently de-classified."

"And what about the things that aren't de-classified?" Sis asked. She's dressed in jeans and a hoodie: the classic apparel of someone who doesn't plan to go anywhere, anytime soon. Miranda looks over at her, and gives her a cryptic shrug.

"I have connections."

"Jesus, I need to tell Anderson to tighten Alliance security." Sis said. She looks pointedly at a few piles of crates. "Those are _inside reports_ on the Battle of Torfan. Who the fuck leaked _that_ to you?"

"Like I said, Commander." Miranda said. "I have connections."

She's taking an eerily clinical approach to this whole thing. I don't really know how I expected her to react. But perhaps the tension between the two of us right now and…whatever it is that we are, is the driving force behind that. But there's no way that I can crack through that now. Right now, I'm barely keeping it together as it is. And I know that the further we go down this rabbit hole, the harder it is going to be to keep things in check.

"I suppose we should start from the beginning." Miranda said, taking a seat at the far end of the table…as far away from me as could be. "Major Benjamin Kyle." She pressed a button on a little handheld, and I watch as an image of the man himself materializes on the holographic board in front of us.

I hadn't actually seen Kyle ever since that fateful day, as he was dragged off the field by two brave soldiers while he whimpered and gibbered in their arms. I have no idea what he looks like now, but I could have recited what he looked like from back then and perfectly nailed this photo that stares lifelessly back at me: Crew-cut to hide his black hair, olive-skinned, with a well-trimmed mustache and goatee. Hazel-green eyes that blend in well with his complexion. Kyle never really told us his ancestry: the most he ever divulged was that his mother was from the Indian subcontinent, and from his peppering of Scottish phrases into his intelligence briefings I knew that he probably had some Scot in him. He was, for all intents and purposes, a mutt. And he kept things close to the chest.

The things that I'd have to look for, whenever we found him, were those eyes. Even though this was simply a basic military "mug shot," Benjamin Kyle's eyes radiated intensity. He was humorless, slow to laugh, and obsessed with routine and procedure. He was, quite honestly, the least-fun and most tightly-wound asshole in the history of the Alliance.

Which made him perfect as a logistician and planner for COBRA missions: when you cultivate a sense of orderliness in your own life that borders on the insane, then it is easy to come up with contingency plans upon contingency plans for your contingency plans. Perfect for black ops missions that live and die on "plausible deniability."

"He probably doesn't look like that anymore." Sis began, breaking me from my reverie. "Usually the tightest Alliance types are the ones that cut loose the most when they get their discharge." She shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised to find him at one of those biotic communes in the boonies of Alliance space, listening to Vanilla Fudge records and imbibing in the good stuff."

Miranda is silent. Awkwardly so.

"You're fucking kidding me." Sis said.

"He went completely off-grid." Miranda said. "Requested a discharge, and received one. Then, he summarily resigned any and all connection to the Alliance. He de-enrolled himself in the alumni network system for Alliance types, and withdrew himself from the Alliance healthcare program and pension plan. He asked for a one-time payout of 200,000 credits, received it, and then disappeared."

I feel a sinking feeling in my gut. Sis still has a raised eyebrow.

"…And when did he start listening to 'You Keep Me Hanging On'?" She looks over at me. "Christ, maybe I need to get tested for being psychic."

"He…didn't join a biotic commune." Miranda said. "He…sort of founded one. The only way that I have any evidence to suggest that this exists is this…" She pressed a few buttons on her handheld, and some photos of pamphlets appeared on the holo-board. "I tried to follow up on the common stereotype – that Alliance hardcores go off-grid after their time in the service, and started to draw a blank…until I noticed that a particularly low-tech form of advertisement was going out in the deep… _deep_ extranet." She pointed to the photos of the literature. "Literally, this commune was sending out paper pamphlets advertising a biotic commune, one that was run by a leader whose patience and kindness 'flows like the narrows, a strait of kindness that cuts through a channel of cruelty in the world.'"

"That is remarkably sappy." Sis said.

"But meaningful." Miranda said. "The pamphlets don't name the leader in question. And they certainly don't make any reference to Benjamin Kyle…on the surface. I thought that the slogan itself seemed rather pointed in its language. So I isolated key words-" She presses a button, and a few of the words within the pamphlet are brought to the forefront of the projection.

 _Narrows._

 _Strait._

 _Channel._

"All three of those words can be in reference to water. So I decided to see if there was any word that comes close to 'Kyle' that links and defines all three of them."

"You didn't…" Sis said, slightly in awe.

"I did." Miranda said. "There's an old Gaelic word that means 'channels, narrows, or strait.' In the original writing, it is known as ' _Caol._ ' Tends to be used as a Scottish surname. But if that word were to be Anglicanized, it would take another form…"

She presses another button, and the superimposed 'Caol' changes form into another, far more familiar word.

 _Kyle._

"Son of a bitch." Sis said.

"But even then, I wasn't one hundred percent sure." Miranda said. "Perhaps the founder of this commune is simply someone who likes water-based imagery in his or her writing. I was _ninety_ percent sure that this was the man I was looking for, but I needed more proof. I needed to find something that would confirm to me that this was Major Kyle and not just a conveniently torturous coincidence."

Then she looked pointedly at me.

"John…I have a confession to make."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Did…did you implant a chip in my brain?" I asked, trying to inject a sense of levity. Something in the depths of my soul tells me that I know where this is going, that I know what she's about to say, but I still can't quite conceptualize it. But I know it's coming.

"You've…been in my private quarters before you were…invited." Miranda words that as carefully as possible, and it's quite clear from the slight flush of her cheeks that she's referring to the few times that I've been there…in private.

"Spare me the details, please." Sis said, making a face and looking away. "I'm only still just recovering from the thought that my XO and my brother were in a clandestine relationship under my nose."

"Commander, it isn't anything like that." Miranda said. She looks at me with a sense of embarrassment. "John, after Horizon, I was walking through the hallways of the lower decks and I…found you. On the floor."

It all comes flooding back.

 _…eventually I realize that there is a presence by me. Looking down upon me. I don't care whther they see me like this anymore. I just want to be left alone. Wallowing._

 _But then I hear the person sigh, and within moments this person is helping me up and off the ground. Walking me over to a couch or something soft. There's perfume in the air._

 _Something like rosemary and pine._

In the privacy of the briefing room, my senses heightened in shock, I smell the same fragrance all over again.

"That was…you?" I managed to sputter.

"You were pathetic." Miranda said. "Drunk, sobbing quietly to yourself, and just at rock bottom. I wouldn't…I _couldn't_ leave you like that. I brought you to my quarters, and left you on the chair with the plan that I would bring you back to your quarters when you sobered up. But as we were walking over to my quarters, I glanced over at your shirt and saw that there was a…tattoo on your upper chest. Your shirt was slightly unbuttoned, and I could see it clear as day."

Instinctively, I reached for the space on my upper left torso, right by my heart. The space where that simple tattoo, emblazoned in dark black (yet flowery) lettering reads a single word.

 **Boss.**

There's a silence again.

"I…I looked it up." Miranda said. "I have an old friend who works in deep cover for the Alliance, handling these sorts of dangerously classified documents. I asked for anyone who might have been in the COBRA unit, and then had a nickname or qualifier 'Boss.'" She paused. "My friend _laughed_ at me. Said that if he so much as spoke a word about her, he'd be shot on the spot. But he gave me a gender, and that was enough. So I cross-referenced the list of reported casualties from the Battle of Torfan…and I found her."

She presses a button on her handheld, and the face I haven't seen in years – and yet still haunts my dreams – materializes in front of us.

"Boss." I managed to whisper.

…

Her name was Lori Allen. Flight Commander. She'd been a career soldier, and you could tell it from the way that she gazed – not looked – back at you through her official mug shot. She kept her hair cut short, and wore a dark green headband to keep it from getting in her eyes. Someone joked that she was going for the Sarah Connor look, but he wouldn't dare bring it to her face. But then she'd found out, and the look of disappointment that she'd given that poor schmuck made him a completely different man.

Oh, right. That asshole was me. The first time I'd met her.

She was pretty tall, slightly above six feet tall. Built strong and sinewy, like a prototypical marine. But those eyes…those steely grey-blue eyes. They looked right into you. And they never left.

All this I told Miranda and Sis.

"Was she your commanding officer?" Sis asked.

"She was." I said. "Sort of. Major Kyle was the guy who put plans together, and then Boss was the one that executed them in the field. She was the field leader. I don't really know who was 'technically' higher, Kyle or Boss, but when it came to field decisions she was the one that we followed."

"How long did you work with her?" Sis asked.

"As long as I was in the COBRA unit." I said. "Plenty of people came in and out of the unit, but other than the Boss and Kyle I was the only one that managed to stay in and not wash out. And it was _hard_ , Sis. Being a COBRA was like being an N7 without any of the accolades. We couldn't officially state that we were COBRAs, we had to list our 'other' job. So while on my official Alliance card I was both a shocktrooper and an instructor, I was also a COBRA."

"Jesus, the more you know." Sis said. "And what was she listed as?"

"Flight instructor. She was always flying shuttles that were the shiniest, most quicksilver-colored stuff you could imagine. She even dressed in that off-silver kind of color. It led to her nickname, too." I paused. "We called her Mercury Lady. Pretty to look at, but in a dangerous sort of way. And she was dangerous."

I noticed that Miranda seemed to tense up when I said "Mercury Lady," but I didn't think anything of it.

"How dangerous we talking here?" Sis asked.

"I once saw her dislocate a Batarian's shoulder while only holding him in a wristlock." I said. "She was the best hand-to-hand fighter we had. So smooth. So precise. And everything that she did…she did with purpose. It fucking _hurt_ to spar with her."

"John, did you love her?"

…

The question throws me for a loop. Mostly because this was the most closely-guarded secret that I've ever kept. It's something that I never even confessed to my sister. It's something that I had never told my mom, or even my father when he was still alive. Love, to me, was so damn impossible to find that I basically gave up hope on its existence. It's what led me to pursue all those endless, casual relationships in the years after my discharge. I just didn't think it could be real, and I didn't think that I would ever find it…well, that I would ever find it again.

But as I looked at my sister and at Miranda, I decided I might as well be honest.

"Yeah." I said. "I fell in love with her."

I pause again, searching for the right words.

"I don't know what it was. But it's just…I can't even explain it. I just know that I felt differently about her than any other woman that I'd ever met. Like a thunderbolt, you know? That sort of thing." I looked at Sis and Miranda. "You know what I'm talking about, right? The thunderbolt? That suddenness, and total fall for someone?"

They both nod slowly. They get it. Even if they've never really experienced it themselves, they certainly get it.

But then something comes back to me. I look over at Miranda.

"You flinched when I called her by her code name. What's the deal?"

Miranda looks over at Sis, and then at me. She seems like she's debating whether or not it is wise to go further. But she does, all the same.

"This biotic commune…it…well, it has a motto. A sort of calling card, of sorts." She said. She closes her eyes. "We seek to cultivate the generosity and warmth of Our Lady Mercury, as we move forward in this transient stage of existence."

There is silence. And then I find my voice.

"That mother _fucker._ "

…

I am standing in the armory of the Normandy. I am looking at the various weaponry that Jacob Taylor has amassed for the crew.

And none of them seem big enough for what I'm looking for.

We're en route to Presrop. It's a barely-charted world in the Hawking Eta, one of those fringe clusters that the Alliance has claimed but only because no other alien race has ever expressed even the slightest interest in these chunks of rock floating in some orbit in the middle of fucking nowhere. They're "ego claims," not at all because of economic or xenopolitical importance. It's just a matter of stating that you have something and then pretending that it has more worth than it actually does.

Sounds like the perfect place for a coward like Benjamin Kyle to run off to.

I know that there are a few others in the armory with me, and I can feel their eyes on me as I stare at each of the weapons laid on the table.

There's a flechette-style shotgun model on the table, with the kinds of rounds that would tear into someone no matter how thick their armor or shielding. There's a handheld version of the standard auto-turret used to put down riots. Rows of grenades and other high-powered explosives and weaponry scatter the table. I pick up an augmented Predator pistol, equipped with a laser sight and high explosive rounds, and I examine it silently the way one might look at an amusing curio.

"John, we aren't going into occupied territory." Sis said. "You're prepping like it's the invasion of Normandy."

"It might as well be." I said. I place a bandolier of grenades on my belt, and make sure that they are properly secured.

"What are you expecting?" Sis asked. "What are you hoping to accomplish? To step off of the ship, and shoot anything that moves?"

"No." I said. "If they had nothing to do with anything, then they can just go about their day. I'm a professional, Jane." I said.

"But this is personal, isn't it?" Sis asked.

"We're talking about a grudge that I've held for almost a decade." I said after some time in silence. "How the hell could it _not_ be personal?"

…

It's a grassy planet, that much is certain. A lot more trees than I would have expected, and a strangely peaceful feel to the air. But, all the same, it's uneasy. I feel as though there is something deeply unsettling and _wrong_ with the lack of strife on this planet. It feels elaborately constructed, like one false move could bring the whole thing down and cause the blood to start flowing. It wouldn't take much to break the illusion.

And here I come, a veritable wrecking ball on this house of cards.

It's just me, Miranda and Sis. No one else was allowed to come. I don't know if I would have invited anyone else. Maybe Thane or Samara, perhaps. And maybe, when this all ends, I'll tell them what happened. But for now…for now, I'm just trying to survive. Just trying to get through it all.

There's a small community shortly away from the landing zone of the Kodiak. They're living in basic living units, the kinds of houses that they provide to early settlers of the space frontier for little to no price. It's the kind of thing that is, well, not exactly big on luxury. It seems to be a very basic life. I would have thought that a pseudo-religious commune would have a more cultish feel to it. But that isn't the case in the slightest.

They're all so… _normal_ here. They're nice and kindly and don't seem to be worried about, well, really anything. All dressed in casual clothing. There are a few kids that are playing in the dirt, and a few of them giggle as they display basic biotic abilities. They just seem so…happy. So blissfully unaware. I bet they have no idea about the Geth Incursion out of the Perseus Veil, or the fact that Sis is single-handedly continuing a fight against an extragalactic threat to all of existence.

"Excuse me?"

We look over. There is a young woman that is walking towards us. She's dressed in a dark blue sundress of sorts, that looks halfway between a dress and a smock. I feel like I'm looking at some sort of Mennonite in space, though I doubt any of these people would know what a Mennonite is. She's pretty, but there's a feel to her that is off. She's not…innocent, necessarily, but the naivete radiates off of her like a solar flare.

She doesn't know what she's helping to hide.

"Can I help you travelers?" She asked.

"We're here to speak to your leader." Sis said. It probably took every fiber of her being not to phrase it in the cliché.

"I'm…sorry. But our leader doesn't really like talking to outsiders." The woman said apologetically.

I raise a pistol, pointing it lackadaisically towards the sky.

"Would the threat of violence draw this leader of yours out?" I asked.

"Please!" The woman said. "He doesn't like guns."

So she's confirmed two things to me: For one, that the leader of this commune is a male. And second, she's re-confirmed that Flyboy doesn't like guns. He never did.

After all, it's harder to rationalize your decisions when you're the one that's actually pulling the trigger.

"Please forgive my partner's…flippancy." Sis said, though she shot a stern look over at me just to be sure. "He's a little brusque. We just needed to speak to your leader. My friend here…well, actually, he knows him. Or thinks that he did."

"Really?" The young woman said, looking at me with a sense of earnest excitement. "You know of Father Kyle?"

 _Father_ Kyle. I resist the urge to puke. What sanctimonious crap.

"Yeah. Worked with him once." I said. "Why not bring him out here."

"Who…shall I say is calling?" The young woman asked.

"Tell him that it's an old friend. Someone he used to work with." I said.

The young woman nodded, though her expression was still somewhat unsure.

"I'll…I'll be right back." She said.

She wandered off, leaving us to mill about in the field around the other commune members. They're all quietly enjoying nature, blissfully ignorant of the fact that they are all on the lip of a long-dormant volcano that is about to explode in all of our faces. I can feel my pulse quickening, ever so slightly. I can feel the end around the corner. I know that, no matter what happens, in a few moments nothing will ever be the same.

After a few minutes longer, the young woman returns.

Alone.

"I'm…I'm sorry." She said. "Father Kyle claims that he doesn't have any living friends from the pas-"

BANG BANG BANG

I fire off a trio of shots into the air. The other commune members either drop to the ground or drop what they're doing, and stare fearfully towards me. I'm beyond caring at this point.

"BENJAMIN!" I roar. "If you won't come see a living friend, come out to speak to a **ghost!** "

BANG BANG BANG

"I don't even care about your stupid commune! I don't want to hurt or even talk to these pathetic lumps!" I shout again. "They can go hide off in a corner for all I care! But it's been seven goddamn years, and you _will_ face me!"

There is a pregnant pause. Silence reigns throughout the commune.

And then a door opens.

And Benjamin Kyle walks out.


	43. When Jonathan Met Benjamin

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop upon which I wrote this story.

I was staring at a shadow.

The man before me might be Benjamin Kyle. But he was not Flyboy. He wasn't the man that meticulously planned every last raid that we went on, every last mission that we carried out in the dead of night. He wasn't the man whose logical way of thinking made him impossible to be around for more than the absolute minimum, or the man who I once wanted to punch in the face for never, ever, _ever_ considering improvising on the orders that we were given from command. He didn't look like the man that you hated to your core yet forged a grudging sense of respect towards because he could calculate missions like nobody's business.

He looked pathetic.

He was wearing a dirtied smock, the kind of thing that you'd expect a deeply pious monk to wear. His hair had grown out and gotten messy, and he had clearly stopped shaving years ago. He'd once prided himself on keeping in tip-top shape. I imagine it had something to do with his meticulous nature. Now he looked sort of soft. I wondered when was the last time that he'd ever touched a weapon. Given his haggard and tired look, I might not have recognized him.

But those eyes. I'd never forget them. Even behind that mess of hair and shock of a beard, those eyes were the same as they were the last time I saw him.

A blubbering, gibbering mess on Torfan.

We stared at each other in silence.

"Hello John." He said. His voice sounded just as tired as he looked.

"…Benjamin." I managed to say. Subconsciously, I felt myself lowering my gun. I was holding it in my hand, but limply. Just five minutes ago, I had been prepared to shoot him the moment I saw him.

What the hell was I supposed to make of what I was looking at now?

He seemed to sense my internal strife.

"Are you surprised to see me?" He asked. He managed a smile, but there wasn't a whole lot of mirth to it. It, again, just looked tired.

"Father Benjamin, do you know this man?" One of the young commune goers, that red-haired girl, tugged on his sleeve. He gently shooed her off.

"Simply a ghost from my past." He said. "Though I suppose he could say the same thing about me, little one." He gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "You needn't worry. He doesn't mean you any harm."

His voice was calm. His body posture was relaxed. But as I looked at him, and I looked at those eyes, I knew that it was all an act. He was doing everything in his power to convince the girl something that he didn't even believe himself. It was enough to raise some bile in my gut.

"I know that I carry quite a reputation, Benjamin, but I'm not a chuld killer for chrissake." I manage to sneer.

"You'll fogive me if I find thatm somewhat hard to believe." Benjamin Kyle asked. "You seemed not to have any trouble with the death of unarmed combatants."

"Oh you mother _fucker_ -" I was about to raise the gun again, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"John, _don't._ " Sis said in a calm but deadly threatening voice. She looked over at Kyle. "Perhaps it would be best if your flock left these premises, Father Kyle."

"This is our land, Commander." He said, clearly looking at her insignia. "If anything, I should be asking you and your cohort to leave. I _won't,_ because this is not an exclusive place, but consider the fact that you are not necessarily standing on moral high ground. You're the ones that are carrying weapons into this place of peace. You stick out like a sore thumb in full body armor and weaponry that could level a city block."

"As if you haven't used weapons like that before, Kyle." I said. "Don't get all high and mighty on me now, goddammit."

"I left that part of my life behind long ago." Kyle said. "I think that perhaps it would have done you some good to follow my example." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Though, to be frank, I _never_ used weapons like that. Nothing like the ones that you were fond of. Tell me, are you still favoring the M-7 Avenger with the Dragon's Breath attachment? The type of gun that tore into a man and could set them on fire when you burned through their shields?"

"Oh, _fuck you._ " I said, trying to pull my pistol arm up again. Sis kept it forcibly down, and there was no way that I was fighting a cybernetically enhanced supersoldier's grip if she didn't want me to. "You're lucky my sister is here, because she's the only thing standing between you and an unmarked grave."

"I see." Kyle said.

"That's all you have to say?" I asked. "I am done playing around, Benjamin. I've waited _seven goddamn years_ for this moment. This is the first time that I've seen you since they carried you off of that battlefield. And you want to know something? Something that kept me going? The thought that one day we were gonna meet again…and I was going to kill you."

There was a pregnant pause. It was somewhat freeing to admit it. All of these years I had been waiting, but there was no point in hiding it. I had, in the darkest recesses of my mind, made up the decision that the next time I saw Benjamin Kyle, he was going to die. That was something that had driven me for years. And I spoke it out loud. Why wasn't he cowering the way he was supposed to?

"You think that if I died it would make any difference?" Kyle asked. "You think that you'd be punishing me any more than the guilt I feel every day?"

"Father Kyle, what are you talking about?" The girl asked.

"Let the others go inside and stay indoors, little Clementine." Kyle said. "This is something that…Mr. Shepard and I have to settle. Ourselves."

The girl nodded fearfully, and rushed off. The others made their way back into the commune houses, though I could tell that they were watching us from the windows and the doorways. All that remained in this field were Sis, Miranda, Kyle and myself.

Nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

…

"You balanced out cold equations so well in the past." I said. "Are you afraid of collateral damage now?"

"Innocents don't need to die in the middle of what amounts to a grudge match, John." Kyle said, his voice hardening a little bit. "Neither of us needs that guilt on our hands. You've got enough, I'm sure. And I can barely sleep with the guilt that eats at me."

"What possible guilt could you have?" I managed to snarl. "You went section eight! Didn't even manage to get a single order out on the battlefield. The bullets started flying, the explosions hit, and the next thing we know you're sitting in the corner, crying like a newborn!"

"You don't understand the stress I was under, John." Kyle said. "You never really did. You were a well-functioning and brilliant _tool_ , but you were never a commanding officer. You didn't have that makeup then, and you still don't have it today, I see. Point you in the right direction, and you were fine. But ask you to manage things yourself? That was something that we never considered." Kyle closed his eyes. "And the one time that it happened…is the one time that my nerve failed."

"Aw, boo hoo. You couldn't handle a simple tactical raid mission, Benjy?" I asked. "You had zero trouble organizing assassinations, covert ops, breaking and enterings, demo ops, and the whole _gamut_ of clandestine missions, but _one little storming of the moon_ broke you?" I shook my head. "You're pathetic." I said. "You couldn't even begin the mission that we were supposed to handle. That's pretty fucking bad, and even you have to admit it-"

" _THAT WASN'T THE BEGINNING OF THE MISSION, JOHN!"_

His outburst was so powerful, so sudden, that I dropped my gun in shock. He didn't so much yell as he roared every word, spittle flying from his lips. He stared at me, panting heavily. He looked off into the distance, and wiped away what looked like tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Oh god…Oh, Jesus. Do I have to relive this?" He muttered. "I spent years…I-I did so much here, so much good and kindness. Why? Why do I have to do this again?" He was crying slightly now.

"You said that wasn't the beginning of the mission…" I said, though I was monotone. Something in my deepest memories was starting to rise to the surface, like something that had hidden in the darkest trenches of my subconscious was now bursting forth. "…What do you mean?"

"John…" Benjamin looked at me sullenly and forlornly. "…How much of that mission are you really remembering?"

"I remember all of it." I said, my voice shaking. "I remember us landing. I remember the chop. I remember watching the company chaplain getting blown up. I remember the gas. The fires we started. The prisoners we dragged out of the holes and shot. I remember the blood. I remember the death. And I remember _you_ crying like a baby at the beginning of it all, Benjamin."

He just looked at me. And then he sighed.

"I didn't go section eight at the very start of the mission, John." He said. "I went section eight right after the Boss died in front of you."

And just like that, it strikes me like a bolt of lightning.

…

 _The early going of the mission wasn't too bad. We ran into some initial chop, but nothing that the elites couldn't handle. The Batarians didn't see it coming, and they were retreating into the darkness like cockroaches brought to the light._

 _"Not bad, huh?" She said. There was always a sense of calm to her voice, a professionalism in everything that she did. It was one of her greatest traits, and one of the things that sent butterflies down my spine._

 _"No, ma'am." I said. "I think that we got them good." I realized that I had sounded somewhat dumb. "Uh, not that that was any sort of revelation."_

 _She laughed. It was a musical sound, and it was something that I don't think I'd ever heard._

 _"You can call me Lori, John. No need to be so formal." She walked forward, and surveyed the distance ahead of us._

 _"Hm, no trouble as far as I can see." She said. She turned around to look at me. "Take the company ri-"_

 _ **BANG.**_

…

"…Sniper." Kyle managed to say. "We must have missed it, or it was a lucky shot from some Batarian who had fled the base. It struck her in the back of the head, the one time that she'd taken her helmet off. She never saw it coming. Probably died instantly."

He looked over at Sis and Miranda.

"He was right in front of her. I think I saw some of her blood get on him. The look on his face…" He trailed off, and then he looked off into the distance. "Everything had been so meticulously planned. Everything had a contingency. The enemy had been scouted. Their plans had been anticipated. Everything. _Everything._ But I made such a terrible mistake…" He closed his eyes and looked at the ground. "I always crunched the numbers with how it regarded our enemies. I never stopped to think about _us_ as the variable. Maybe that's partly because of how good we were. I never thought that things would be otherwise. But…no one is perfect. Not even Flight Commander Allen. And when the Boss died, that's when I realized that the chain of command had shifted. I wasn't capable of being in charge of field work; I always ran intelligence, anyway. And the only person left to lead the soldiers on the field was John. And that's when I knew."

He looked at me.

"That's when I knew that the men and women that we trained and prepped for this mission were no longer being led by a soldier and a professional, but by a vengeful boy who missed his father."

I snapped.

With every ounce of my strength, I managed to shuck Sis off, and tackled Kyle to the ground. I started punching him and slapping him and hitting anywhere that he wasn't defending.

"FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUUUU!" I managed to howl. "You son of a bitch! You son of a bitch! _Don't you dare talk about my dad!_ **Don't you dare!** "

One of my punches busted his nose good, but then an ironclad forearm wrapped itself in front of my neck. Sis had me in a chokehold. She pulled me away from Kyle, though I thrashed violently left and right.

"LEMMEGOOOO!" I roared, trying to overpower Sis with every ounce of strength I had. It didn't work. Why would it have? Sis could bench-press a car, most likely. I was probably as weak as a newborn compared to her.

" _John, let it go._ " She said. " _Stop it or I_ _ **will**_ _squeeze._ " She tightened her grip ever so slightly, and I saw spots before my eyes. "And it would be _easy._ Like breaking a toothpick. So please, John, _stop._ " She wasn't bluffing.

"I'll give him this: I was technically the commanding officer of that mission after the Boss' death, and I should have delegated." Kyle managed to get back to his feet. He looked at us. "But I'm not to blame for John's hang-ups. I'm not to blame for the actions taken on Torfan. Because there was no plan there, Commander! He took the best-trained men and women that I've ever had the pleasure of serving with, and he threw them right into the grinder! He didn't stop! He never stopped! He didn't listen to the advice, he didn't take advantage of tactics! He just rushed in there with the fury of God's own thunder, and more soldiers died that day than needed to! He didn't think! He didn't listen! He just fought. And he fought. And he dragged everyone else into it! He cost lives because he couldn't let go of it all. And you _know it,_ Venom." He said. He stood ramrod straight, and for a moment Flyboy had returned.

"We…had…to get them!" I managed to choke out.

" _What were our orders, John?_ " Kyle snarled. "We were supposed to **establish an outpost and observe the situation!** We were supposed to call in an orbital bombardment once we had their location triangulated! We weren't supposed to go in. We were _never_ supposed to go in!" He looked me in the eye. "None of that would have happened if you. Had. Just. _Stopped._ "

I stopped struggling against my sister. She loosened the chokehold.

"And do you know the worst of it, John?" Kyle said, taking a knee next to me. "The worst part of it all? None of what we did _fucking mattered!_ Within a week of the raid, before the public was even _aware_ of what we did on Torfan, the Batarian Hegemony got slapped with enough economic sanctions to cripple their economy, all for the sake of Elysium. Diplomats with briefcases and suits did more to get revenge on the Batarians for the death of your father, those colonists, and Elysium than us men and women with guns _ever_ did. We were just a means to an end! We _aren't that important_. And what do we have to show for our service?" He threw up his arms in exasperation. "Nothing! We can't talk about our service, because it's all classified. We can't collect a full pension, because the COBRA unit was clandestine and probably violated galactic law with its very existence. And we can't petition the Alliance for relief, because they pretend that we were never real. Look at me! Look at you." He got down on both knees, and looked me right in the eye. "The Boss died for _nothing_ , John."

" _I loved her!_ " I managed to choke out. "First woman I ever loved, goddammit! Why do you think I have _this?_ " I tore my shirt to reveal the tattoo on my chest. "You cannot tell me that she died for nothing, Kyle. You cannot fucking tell me that! Don't you _dare_ tell me that!"

"It's the _truth,_ John." Kyle said. "And maybe it's time that we stopped trying to outsmart the truth and let it have its day. Going into black ops work to do dirty work for the Alliance? That's not being the good guys! Jesus, when you were a kid and dreaming of flying ships like the Normandy SR-1, did you think that one day you'd be authorizing missions that dragged civilians out of their homes for kidnapping, torture, indefinite prison, and all manner of things that make your skin crawl? I joined the Alliance to be part of the Proud 3%, not doing the dirty work. We were little better than Cerberus, for chrissake, we just had implicit Alliance approval!"

He sighed, and just sat down now. He buried his head in his hands.

"In our career, we've taken things and taken things and taken." He looked at me again. "What have we _given_ to the galaxy? What have we actually _done?_ " He was close to tears again. "This commune might seem like a joke to you, John. But…but I've counseled biotics. I've helped families. I've officiated weddings. I've watched children be born, and I've seen off young ones as they head out into the galaxy ahead of them. This place might seem like a dump to you, but to me it's a family. I've added something to the galaxy, even if it's a small little thing. Even if the rest of the galaxy doesn't even care. But it matters to me, and that's something that they can't take away. And unlike the COBRAs, I can _talk about it._ I can _live it._ And when I do something good for this community, you know what it does? It keeps the nightmares away." He throws up his hands in exhausted exasperation. "I just want to know peace, John. I will carry that day with me to my grave…but I need this. God, I need this. It makes me less afraid of what happens in the end. And it makes me feel like I matter. Do you know what that feeling is like? Is there anything that you would not do for your family?"

I looked him in the eye. I felt numb. I could barely comprehend what I was hearing. I couldn't really believe it. I didn't want to believe it. But as I sat there in the field, I realized that Benjamin Kyle and I weren't all that different. He'd spent his time in this commune away from everything; I'd gone to Omega and stayed at that church. He helped others; I tried and failed to understand the point of Father Hidalgo's sermons. He was there for the community; I had left, and Nef died. The one person that I'd promised I would protect, and I couldn't even pull that off.

And just like me, whenever he'd done something for the others, the nightmares disappeared for a little while.

What _had_ I done right, in the end? What was something that I had done that was worthwhile? Something that I hadn't fucked up?

I looked over to my right. I saw Miranda.

And my own words come back to me.

 _But would it really be so bad for her to know that she has a sister who loves her?_

Oh.

Oh god.

Oh god, I ruined it.

What have I done?

There's a clattering noise as I once again drop my weapon, this time for good. I kicked the pistol off to the side, well out of my reach. And I collapsed into a heap, sobbing. The memories of everyone I couldn't save hit me all at once.

Dad.

Dad, I'm so sorry.

I just wanted you to be proud of me. To feel like I hadn't forgotten you.

Would you even recognize me anyone?

Would anyone?

I miss you, Dad.

"…I'm so sorry." I whispered. "I'm so, so sorry…"

"John."

I hear a voice. In the midst of my wallowing, I hear a voice.

"John, it's going to be okay."

Someone hugs me tightly. There's a sweet smell in the air.

Rosemary and pine.

I open my eyes and I see Miranda embracing me.

It's too much.

I embrace her back, not even bothering to hide my sobbing. I hear my sister talking to Benjamin Kyle, sounding like she's speaking a million miles away. I try to control my breathing. I take deep breaths. I try to think. To clear my head. Something to hold onto. Someone to hold onto.

And then I realize that I'm holding that person.

"Goddammit, I'm sorry." I manage to whisper. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, Kyle. I'm sorry I shot Dr. Archer, Miranda. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Nef. I'm sorry I couldn't take the bullet, Boss. _I'm sorry, Dad._ "

God, I'm so sorry.

We sit there for a moment, Miranda gently shushing me. Sis keeps talking to Kyle, though I don't know what they're saying. They're talking about me, I just know it.

But eventually, I manage to make eye contact with Miranda while they're talking. I just need to say something.

"You were right about me." I said. "I'm just a mess. Worthless. And everything I try to do to help others, I keep fucking it up. So why are you here, right now? Why did you come down to this place with me? My sister, I understand. But you could have just given me the information and then sent me on my way. Why did you come here, Miranda?" I managed to ask.

She looks me dead in the eye.

"I came here because I wanted to, John." She said. "I want to help you. I…" She trailed off. "I don't know what it is, but I can't give up on you. Your sister can't give up on you. We don't _want_ to give up on you." She shakes her head. "I _won't_ give up on you."

"But…but I…" I managed to sputter. "I killed Dr. Archer. I'm a murderous man, with violence in me. Why don't you just give up on me and save yourself the trouble?"

"Because it _isn't_ a trouble, John." She said. "Despite everything that you think. You are enough. And even you deserve happiness, no matter what you've done and gone through. Haven't you punished yourself enough? Haven't you done enough penance? Isn't it…isn't it time to start living again?" She looked over at Major Kyle, who was still talking to Sis. "You're here now. They're distracted. And if you wanted to…I wouldn't stop you. Look within yourself, John: do you want to kill Benjamin Kyle? Because you can do it. Right here. Right now. It's the last ghost from your past. Is that what you want, in the end?"

I look at them. I look at her. I look at the gun. And then I look back at her again.

"…No." I said finally. "Killing him isn't gonna bring the Boss or Nef or Dad back."

Miranda looks and me and nods with a resolute expression on her face.

"What?" I asked.

"Then you are _exactly_ the man that I thought you were." She smiles slightly, and it is the prettiest thing that I've ever seen. It's like waking up to a sunrise. She gently stands up, and offers me her hand.

"I'm going to pick you up, John." She said. "And you're going to leave this place. And you're going to help your sister save the galaxy, and you're going to be alright. And…if you want me, or if you don't, I am willing to be there…if you want. All you need to do is take my hand."

So I do.


	44. Passed Down to The Son

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop upon which I wrote this story.

The flight back up to the Normandy was quiet.

It usually was, but this time there was something different. I couldn't really put my finger on it, but there was something in the air that made me feel like something had changed. I wanted there to be a better way of describing it, but in the end I just couldn't put it to words. But there was a sense of…lightness. I guess that was it. I felt sort of lighter than before.

I wouldn't say that I felt _better,_ per say. But I did feel lighter. And maybe that was better than whatever it was that I felt from before.

I could tell that the others were looking at me. They were trying to avert their eyes, so that there wasn't any awkward eye contact, but I knew that they were still staring. The only one that was giving me my space was Sis, to be honest. But even then, I could tell that she had glanced over in my direction a few times. So I finally broke the silence.

"You got something to say, you know that you can speak." I said.

"Was it worth it, John?" Sis asked. I turned to look at her. She has this pitying, yet sympathetic look on her face. I know that she cares about me, so I don't find offense in the look that I might have years ago.

"I don't know if 'worth it' is the right way to look at it." I said. "I spent almost ten years thinking about what I was going to do when I saw that son of a bitch again. I had more than a few vivid dreams about it. But then I saw him…and, well…you were there." I shrugged.

"Were you planning to kill him, even when we were down there?" Sis asked.

I looked over at her, but then I flitted my eyes over towards Miranda. She looked at me, with eyes that betrayed no sense of judgment or opinion. She was prepared for whatever it was that was going to come out of my mouth. I took a deep breath.

"I couldn't bring myself to. But I thought about it. Oh, I thought about it." I said. "But…I don't think that killing him would make me feel any better. Wouldn't stop the pain, anyway. And…" I closed my eyes. "I couldn't kill him in front of all of those people that were looking to him for leadership." I had a flashback to earlier days, before Torfan and Boss' death and the world going to shit. "I remember when he had control of things. It made me feel like things were in control. That things were gonna work out. I guess he's rediscovered that sense of being, even if it's peddling phony religiosity to those people down there."

"What if he believes in it?" Sis asked.

"Well…" I began. But then I stopped. Something in me prevented me from making my usual, snarky and mean-spirited remark. "…I guess then that's good. I suppose I'd rather that he believe in it than not, just as a means to hide himself."

"So what do we do now?" Miranda asked. "You know where Benjamin Kyle is. You know how to get to him. Does that mean that…it's over?"

I look over at Miranda.

"No." I said. "It's not over. After all…" I feel a cold sense of determination returning. "…we have a job to do."

And thinking about that made me feel a lot more in control. Perhaps for the first time in a long time.

Of course, life wasn't done with tugging on my already-fragile emotional makeup yet.

…

I could practically _feel_ the awkward when I was in the armory. Normally Taylor is pretty cut-and-dry about things. He might actually be the least-interesting guy in the entire ship: does his job, doesn't ask questions, and doesn't seem to the veritable smorgasbord of hang-ups and problems that the rest of us psychos do. In a way, it's kind of a comfort: whenever I went to the armory to get my outfittings, Taylor could pick me the perfect gun combination, with the right type of ammo for the situation.

But as I see him waffling through the various sidearms on the table, seemingly unable to figure something out, I cannot help but voice my frustrations.

"Any goddamn day, you know." I said.

He blinks once, as if snapping out of a reverie. And then he looks up at me. There's a sheepish look on his face as he shrugs.

"My bad, John. I, uh, I'm not on my A-game these days. Personal matter." He shrugged. "I won't let it affect my duties."

I can't help but raise my eyebrow as he says this.

"Uh, with respect? You might as well air whatever dirty laundry you've got. My sister has a knack for finding it anyway." I manage to say. I am sympathetic to a point, but if Taylor is upset because he, I dunno, got "Dear John'd" or something, then I'm gonna be annoyed.

"Well, what is it?" I asked, after Taylor doesn't respond to my first comment. Now it's his turn to raise an eyebrow.

"As I said, it's a _personal_ matter." He said. "I don't want to waste our time if it turns out to be a goose chase. But…"

He walks over to the side of the table, looks down on it, and then clears his throat.

"You have some experience with getting hit by the ghosts of your past, don't you?"

"Uh…you could say that." I said, not really sure where he's going with this.

"Well, they say that two makes company." He said. "I got pinged by a ghost of my own, last night…family."

"…Go on." I said.

"My private log got an update about the _Hugo Gernsback_ , the ship that my father served on. It sent an SOS last week, reporting a crash and requesting a rescue."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go save your dad." I said.

"John, that ship went missing _ten years ago._ I hadn't talked to my father for three years before that. I've buried everything but a body." He frowns. "You know what that's like?"

"Yeah, Jacob, actually I know _exactly_ what that's like." I growl. He realizes that he's stepped over a line, and visibly retreats.

"…Sorry. I just have…complicated memories when it comes to my father." Jacob said.

"Again, I know exactly what that's like."

"I suppose you do." Jacob said. "I'm not convinced that this isn't just some automated distress signal ticking over. It's been too long."

"Isn't there a small part of you that's happy to think that your father might still be alive?" I asked.

"John, you and the commander got the picture-perfect outcome of growing up a spacer family." Jacob said. "Your father was always there for you, wasn't he? And any time that he was with you, he was like superdad, even though he was tired? Even though he was consumed with enough worries in the Alliance? My dad wasn't around enough for me to have bad memories." He shook his head. "It's an old, well-healed wound. But…if he's actually alive, and needs help…"

"You didn't get along with your father, I take it?" I asked.

"He made no apologies, I'll give him that." Jacob said. "You make a mistake, you own up to it, even if you keep making it. Whatever problems we had were a lifetime ago. I've had ten years to get to where I am. And as far as I know, he's still a ghost."

I say nothing, taking it all in.

"I also want to not that it's not normal procedure for distress calls to be routed to the Normandy. This one was routed to my personal log through Cerberus filters."

"Well, is it possible that Cerberus is just fucking with you?" I asked. "Who passed you the info?"

"I thought about it, but I doubt it." Jacob said. "I doubt the Illusive Man would let a direct operation stay cold this long. It there's a link, it's probably just about money. Cerberus needs diverse holdings to fund projects like, well, your sister." He shakes his head. "And whoever sent this my way covered their tracks. Someone could be fishing for favors. Or thought that this would get under my skin. Who knows with that bunch?"

"You already know my opinion on your employer." I said.

"This stays between us, but I'm kind of glad that you plugged Dr. Archer." Jacob said. "I get the 'greater good' argument and all, but not like that. And not with your own flesh and blood as the guinea pig."

"I think we can spare the time." I said. "Let's go talk to Sis. Have her pass the coordinates to Joker."

…

"You know, John, at _some point_ we need to put in the IFF and get to work." Sis said.

"I know, I know. But this is important to Jacob. He needs this sense of closure."

"Does _he_ need this sense of closure? Or do _you?_ "

"Janey, don't start with that-"

"John, I've already buried Dad. If we're going to do this…make sure that you're not doing it as a way to live vicariously through Jacob."

"…"

"I'll have Joker route us there."

…

It's a gross, sticky, and _hot_ jungle of a rock that Joker has landed us at. It's called Aeia, but it might as well be the fucking heart of darkness that Joseph Conrad was writing about. I can barely breathe in this place, and I'm glad that I sprung for a helmet that filters out some of the stuffier air.

"Christ, this place is the bloody pits. I thought Vido was holed up in a shithole…"

Zaeed, it seems, is of a similar mindset. Personally, I'm glad that he's been rescued from mess duty and put back on the ground. Maybe not as glad as he is, but glad all the same. He looks over at me, and winks.

"Let's go find his fuckin' dad, eh?" He said.

"Caution is paramount." Samara said, as she has joined us, Jacob and Sis on the ground. "I do not have a good feeling about this place."

"It's 'bad feeling' ya Asari stick-in-the-mud. If you're gonna quote Star Wars, at least get the bloody damned quote right!"

"If you refer to me as such again, Mr. Massani, you will not wake up the following morning."

Zaeed is fearfully silent. Sis rolls her eyes, clearly over this crap, and radios EDI.

"Any word on the Gernsback?" She asked.

" _I have run a scan of the ship."_ EDI said. " _I detect no life signs, but there may be useful technology or information still inside._ "

"There's the ship ahead." Jacob said. "And it's mostly intact. That's…promising."

He's starting to hope again. It's a dangerous little thing, I suppose, but in this situation I don't think I blame him.

As we approach the downed cruiser, I can see that it is similar to the type of ship that Mom or Dad would have flown on when they were on duty.

"People could have survived impact, but…it's been years." Jacob said. As we get close enough to be under the shade of the ship, Jacob comments again. "Looks like it was stripped after the crash. They'd have tried to get a beacon up and running as soon as possible."

There seems to be a staging ground right outside the ship. I notice that there is a holo-log on hand. It looks partially damaged, but nothing unfixable. I activate my iDroid, scanning it to copy and play the file.

" _…along with this anymore. We've done horrible things to the crew. The condition they're in, they don't understand what we're doing to them."_ He pauses. " _Distract them for two seconds and they forget what you did before the bruises show. It's got to stop. I'm talking to the others as soon as –_ "

Well, that's ominous.

We walk inside the derelict ship. It's been stripped, save for a few perfunctory terminals that are still running. As the others scavenge to look for materials or ammo, I see another partial log. It's a bad habit of mine to collect these things, but I can't help but swipe it and play.

" _…always said no. She even threatened a report if I didn't stop sending messages. But now she's so innocent. They all are. And that look she gives when she smiles…_ "

I hope this creeper is dead already. Because if he isn't, I'm gonna kill him myself.

Sis grabs another one of the files and hits play. It's a female voice this time.

" _…crash you can't expect the luxury of due process, but this isn't a military ship. Just bumping the command line up a notch doesn't work. Captain Fairchild knew this crew. His replacement doesn't command the same level of respect. I'm hoping the man has it in him, but I doubt -_ "

Samara grabs another file. She hits play.

" _What…what was her name? Sarah. S-Suzanne. My god, I can't remember. I can't remember her face!"_

It's a cacophony of something terrible, though we cannot quite put words to it.

"Let's get out of here." Sis muttered, waving for us all to double back to the staging ground. When we return, we notice that there is a flickering VI on station, repeating the same orders over and over. It's hard to make them out, it's so garbled.

"From the look of it, this beacon's been here awhile. Why would they wait years to signal?" Sis asked.

" _Pause in beacon protocol."_ The VI said, as if recognizing our voices as humans. " _Eight years, 237 days, seven hours. Pause is recoded by RECORD DELETED by Acting Captain Ronald Taylor._ "

"That's not right." Jacob said. "My father was first officer."

" _Ronald Taylor was promoted under emergency command protocols."_ The VI said, as if hearing Jacob. " _Other flagged issues: Unsafe deceleration. Local food and neural decay. Beacon activation protocols._ "

"Local food impairs brain functions?" Sis asked. "What are the effects?"

" _Impairment of mental function due to chemical imbalance begins within seven days of ingesting local flora regardless of decontamination or preparation_. _Impact on higher cognitive abilities and long-term memory is cumulative, but significant within a standard month. It is not known if neural decay is permanent. Data collection was not completed._ "

"Maybe because they lost the ability to ask that sort of thing…" I muttered. "Might be good to peg this computer for all that we can." I said.

"You mentioned something about emergency command protocols." Samara said to the VI. "Can you elaborate?"

 _"Captain Harris Fairchild killed following unscheduled suborbital descent. First Officer Ronald Taylor promoted in field to acting captain._ "

"But where is he _now?_ " Jacob asked, losing patience.

" _The location of the remaining crew of the Hugo Gernsback is unknown. This beacon has been unattended for several maintenance cycles._ "

Jacob makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. But he says no more.

"I assume 'unsafe deceleration' refers to the crash?" Sis asked. "Give me the details."

" _Following an unspecified impact and sublight drive failure, the Hugo Gernsback made an unscheduled descent at 465% of theoretical recommended sub-orbital velocity. The Hugo Gernsback then decelerated at 782% of theoretical recommended approach velocity, sustaining significant damage to investment and crew._ " The VI said. God damn, it just makes the whole thing sound so…clinical.

"It's been nine years." Jacob said. "My dad has had that beacon all this time. Maybe the neural decay has affected him."

I don't want to tell Jacob that this probably won't end well, so I bite my tongue.

…

We're walking through the jungle, and even with the safety of my mass effect shielding and armor…it's starting to get hot inside. My face is matted with sweat, and I can only imagine how it would feel to be living out here for…nine years? Jesus, it'd be a miracle if anyone is still alive after the clusterfuck of a crash that the Gernsback went through. About half a klick from the crash site, we came across what looked like a typical Alliance-protocol operating base. Nothing but the essentials and a few pieces of communication equipment. Most all of it seemed to be out of commission.

But then I hear a twig snap.

I draw my pistol towards the source of the sound, and I know that the others have followed suit. I know that whatever it is that has made the noise is behind the crates, so I decide to just be blunt.

"Come out. We won't shoot if you are friendly."

It's a young woman, disheveled and matted hair, that emerges from the crates. She's pale, has a sunken look in her eyes, and looks malnourished.

"You came? From the sky?" She said. There's a sense of desperate relief in her tone. "The leader said someone would come! He delayed for so long, but he still has power!" There's a sense of satisfaction to her last few words, as if her faith in something has been rewarded. "Some have lost faith. The hunters! They will have seen your star. They will not let you help him."

There's something desperately wrong here. The girl seems to think that she's totally lucid, but almost none of what she's just said makes any sense. Sis tells her so, albeit in kinder tones that I would have. The girl blinks once. And then she looks down, a sense of depression overcoming her.

"I—I, uh…I don't remember how to say it. He's our leader, and we serve so…we can go home. But some want to fight him. They were – they were cast out."

As Sis and the others listen, I glance beyond the girl…and I see movement. I can't tell what it is. But I tilt my weapon towards the source of movement.

"He exiled them, so they hunt his machines and those who help him." The girl continued. "They don't believe that help will come-"

"DOWN!" Sis saw the movement just like we did, and with a forceful shove she knocks the girl back down towards the ground.

"Hunters!" The girl said. "They won't stop until the leader is dead."

"Kill them!" One of the hunters shouted. "Agents of the liar! He will not escape!"

They're all still wearing typical Alliance naval wear, and are only armed with standard-issue sidearms. They're also…pathetic. They movements are haphazard, their aim is poor, and some of their shots just harmlessly bounce off of our shielding. Taking them out is easy.

"This ain't neural decay." Zaeed said, inspecting some of the corpses. They're all emaciated, sunken-eyed, and practically feral-looking. "These goddamn bastards were nuts."

"My father wouldn't let this go on." Jacob said. "Something is very, very wrong."

Zaeed shares a look with me. I remember that look: it's the same one that he and I shared when we were looking for Miranda's sister, and when she had expressed absolute faith in Niket.

I hope that one-eyed bastard is wrong. I really, really hope that he's wrong.

"You killed them, but there are more every day." The survivor girl said. "They want to fight him, but I…I just want to go home."

"She's lost it." Jacob said. "We need to find someone who can make sense of this." He starts walking ahead.

"What about her?" I asked. Jacob looked at her and shrugged.

"What is there that we can do?" He said. "None of us are medical professionals."

"I was." I said. "I was a medic."

"Well, then." Jacob said, with a sense of impatience. "What do you recommend we do, _doctor?_ "

I stare at him coldly.

"One more comment like that and I'll split your lip." I sneered.

"John, talk to the girl." Sis said. She turned to Jacob. "Jacob, _cool it._ "

I take a knee next to the girl. She looks at me, a near-feral look of panic in her eyes. She's hyperventilating a little bit. Too much, in fact. Gotta calm her down.

"In through the nose, out through the mouth." I said. I gently modeled the action I wanted her to take. Slowly but surely, she started to pattern me. I nodded. "Good. Does anything hurt?"

"Nothing but…my head." She said. "My head…it buzzes. I want the buzzing to stop."

"Might be a concussion." I said. I looked over at Sis. "If we find any more people that are as reasonable as her, we're gonna need to be careful. You might have aggravated something by saving her, Sis." Sis nodded. I turned back towards the girl. "I'm going to give you something. Press it, and the light will start to blink. When the light is green, head back to the ship. Some men and women will be there to get you."

"Joker, get a shuttle down to the location I'm tabbing." Sis said, practically reading my thoughts. "We're gonna have a few survivors down here that need immediate medical help."

" _Affirmative, Commander._ "

"Come on, let's move." Sis said. She led up the winding road away from the beach. The young woman looked at us with frightened eyes. I did my best to reassure her with a small smile.

"You'll be okay." I said. "We'll find the ones who did this to you."

…

After a few minutes more of walking, we come across a clearing higher along the pathway. There are signs of crude tents and other forms of civilization here. There are also several people that I assume are remnants of the Gernsback's crew.

"Is that a settlement?" Jacob said. "They'd better be more friendly than the beach crew. I want answers."

They're disturbingly quiet as we enter the camp. Some of them converse with each other in hushed whispers. Some of them don't talk at all. Some of them don't even pay attention. But they all know that we're in the camp.

"No fight from these saps." Zaeed said. "Small comfort."

"They all have the same uniform as the men who attacked us." Samara said. "But I notice something…where are the men?"

We all do a double-take, and then it hits us. There isn't a single guy in the entire camp, save for me, Jacob and Zaeed. In fact, I noticed that the women in the camp seemed to be paying more attention to the three of us than Sis or Samara.

"Maybe the neural decay affects genders differently?" Sis asked. "Maybe it makes men more violent."

"If they were violent, we would have killed them already." Zaeed said. "But that woman on the beach said that hunters were exiled."

The women of the camp are getting closer to us. I notice that they are paying more attention to the men than to the women in our group. There's a strange look of longing in some of their eyes that is really, really unnerving me.

"It doesn't matter." Jacob said, his temper clearly snapped. "One of them needs to tell us what my father has to do with this!"

"You have his face!" One of the women suddenly said, looking at Jacob for the first time. "He promised to call the sky, but he sends nothing."

"He forced us to eat, to…decay." One of the other survivors said. "You are _cursed_ with his face!" She points an accusatory finger at him.

"Not exactly the best reaction to the family resemblance, Jacob." I said.

"Why would my father force his crew to eat toxic food?" Jacob wondered. "Whatever is going on here needs to stop." He is livid, though he's doing wonders at keeping his voice down. "Look at those spoiled food stores. They've been eating that toxic crap for who knows how long. Like that wasn't obvious enough."

As we walk past the women in the camp, they all stare and hiss at us. Well, mostly at Jacob.

"He is cursed with his face. His cruel face."

"Go away! You are like him. You will keep us here."

"He is bad. He has a bad face like the other, like him. You'll hurt me!"

But other comments are disturbing for different reasons.

"I can't talk to you. I…don't want…punishing."

"He keeps us. Protects us. And we please him, like he demands."

I look back over at Zaeed. That same look he had before? It's still there. Only now it seems more crystallized. More certain.

In the center of the camp, there is a strange amalgation of material that seems to look somewhat…religious?

"What the hell is that?" Zaeed asked.

"Someone had to push them to make that." Samara observed. "It looks like something designed for…worship."

Jacob is stone silent. But he is glowering.

And I feel somewhat sick to my stomach.

…

It doesn't take us long to find trouble. There are a few LOKI mechs that are marching into the camp. They see us, and clearly we've done something to upset them.

"YOUR CAPTAIN DEMANDS COMPLIANCE. WEAPONS ARE PROHIBITED."

"Prohibit this." Zaeed snarled, opening loose a burst of rifle fire that clips two of the three LOKI mechs. Samara crushes the other one with a biotic warp. Again, I'm taking no joy in this. It's positively pathetic. _They're_ pathetic. It's like playing a video game on the easiest of difficulties.

As the last of the LOKI mechs falls, a woman steps forward.

"You…have his face…" She said to Jacob. "But…you fight his…machines. You might stop this!"

From her voice, she's the doctor from one of the earlier holotapes we recovered from the crashed ship. She handed Jacob a datapad.

"This…I forget how to…read, but this…was the start. What he promised, and what they did to us. We need the sky. Take us back to the sky." She walks away, leaving us to wait for Jacob to finish reading the datapad.

"Jacob?" Sis asked after an uncomfortable silence. He holds the datapad in his hands, his voice steady as he reads it.

"It's a crew logbook." Jacob said. "Some of them thought that the beacon repair was taking too long. They were afraid that they would run out of supplies and lose their minds to the decay." He paused. "My father…restricted the ship food for himself and the other officers, so they wouldn't be affected. The rest of the crew had to eat the toxic food and hope for treatment later. The rest is a casualty list. A few mutinied over the decision. My father and the other officers turned the mechs on them." There is a palpable look of disgust in his face.

"The beacon was fixed after a year, though." Samara said. "Therefore, the plan must have worked. I am struggling to understand why, then, there was no signal."

"Those weren't the last entries on the casualty list." Jacob said, shaking his hand. "More incidents, harsh punishments. It's like they're cattle. Or toys."

He keeps reading, and I can actually watch as the horror seems to dawn on him.

"In a year, all the male crew members are flagged as 'exiled' or dead. They separated the women out, and assigned them to officers…like pets." But then he snarls. "And after the beacon was fixed, the officers appear in the casualties, too. _After!_ My father took control and didn't stop it."

"We haven't seen any other officers." Zaeed said. "I'm guessing he killed them?"

"There were five after the crash." Jacob said. "Medical, engineering, bridge staff. Should've had no trouble fixing the beacon and keeping people safe…all killed within the same week, about a month after the beacon was repaired."

That's Stalin levels of purging there.

"Anything in there about whether the effects of the toxic food can be treated?" I asked.

"Nothing." Jacob said. "But it _seems_ like the right call. If everyone gets it, who's left to fix the beacon? You'd never get out…But they did fix it. And the signal wasn't sent until now. I'm starting to see why…"

"Does it say why he separated the men and the women?" Sis asked. "Or…is it as bad as it seems?"

"No, it turns to gibberish." Jacob said. "Maybe the men got violent early on, but from the state of things, I'd say that the hunter thing is recent." He shakes his head. "What he allowed here, Shepard? I don't see any justification."

"Do you see an explanation for this?" Sis asked. "He is your father."

"Is he?" Jacob asked. It's the coldest thing I've ever heard, and Sis and I practically shiver in unison. "None of this fits." Jacob said. "Maybe the initial decision, but the rest? Abuse of power doesn't get much clearer than this." He said. "I need to find this man."

…

Continuing to climb up the mountain, we run into a few intermittent LOKI mechs and a few hunters. They're shells of whatever they could have been while healthy, and taking them down doesn't do anything but make me feel like this is all a waste. And as we ascend, a voice cuts into our intercom.

 _"I had to keep them busy, distracted, but it's getting dangerous. I'm so relieved you've come!"_

"He had his fun. And now he wants out." Jacob said. "Son of a bitch."

Sis and I exchange a worried look.

Five on one against a YMIR mech is normally a pretty difficult affair, but this one seems like it had barely been used. It was rusted and battered and old. Jacob ends up being the one that lands the "killing" blow.

"Enough with the _toys._ " He snarls. "I need to look my father in the eye and hear him justify this."

We entered the armored compound, and we see him waiting for us. He throws open his arms in relief.

"You're here! I knew a real squad would blow through just fine. Sorry if the mechs gave you any trouble."

Sis just walks past him, and stares out across the ocean in front of us. In normal situations, seeing this would be a calming thing for her. But right now I know she's just doing whatever she can to not look "captain" Ronald Taylor in the eye.

"I'll, uh, get you something nice when we get back to Alliance space." He continued seemingly not recognizing the ice-cold reception he's getting from all of us. "I've got ot have some back pay coming."

I look at him, and I'm almost amazed. He's literally the antithesis of dad: this guy is slimy, soft, smooth-talking, and completely lacking any ability of self-awareness. But the worst thing of it all? He doesn't even recognize that his own flesh and blood is standing right next to him, hearing every sniveling word. We've discovered a hellish cult and the first thing that this guy thinks about is what he's owed by the Alliance.

"What about your _crew_ , 'acting' Captain?" Jacob asked. The sheer disappointment in his voice is cutting daggers into _me,_ and I'm not even in trouble.

"Total loss." Ronald Taylor said, barely looking over his shoulder. "The toxic food turned them wild. They propped me up here in some kind of ritual behavior. Waiting for a chance to signal has been hell."

Jacob shakes his head.

"That's the best you can do?"

"You let all your people talk back like that?" Ronald Taylor asked Sis. "…Uh, who are you exactly?"

Sis takes off her helmet, and turns around to face Ronald. She crosses her arms across her chest, and the look of contempt on her face is terrifying.

"My name is Jane Shepard, Commander of the Normandy. Council SPECTRE. And I _believe_ you are acquainted with Mr. Taylor?"

"Taylor?" Ronald's eyes widened. "Jacob?...No, no…not Jacob…"

"Why _not_ me?" Jacob asked. "Would ten years of this look better to anyone else in the galaxy?" He sneered. "Were you just hoping that you'd see me years or months after this was done, so that you'd have time in therapy and post-PTSD counseling to come up with a better story than the _shit_ you just fed me?"

"You have to understand. This isn't me." Ronald began. "The realities of command…they change you. I wasn't ready for that. I made sure you were taught right. Before I left. I had hoped to leave it at that."

"Being in command doesn't _change_ you." Sis said. "It brings out the _truth_ in you. Which is why I'm still a reasonable person. I would never say that I'm unreasonable…but _ten years?_ What the hell happened?"

"What do you mean what happened?" Ronald asked.

"When you talk to an officer, you say _sir._ " Sis said coldly.

"God _dammit!_ " Jacob finally exploded. "Why did you do this to your crew?"

"Doc, behind us." Zaeed whispered. He pointed and we saw that a few of the hunters were slowly moving closer towards us. On instinct, Zaeed and Samara and I brought up our weapons. We pointed them at the hunters, but it was only a temporary solution. This wouldn't hold.

"There was resistance to the plan. Mutiny. We had to take a hard line to keep order. And things settled down. As the decay set in, we made sure that the crew was comfortable." Ronald continued. He was looking out onto the waterfront. "Some even seemed happier. Ignorance is bliss, right? And they were grateful for guidance, like an instinct. Pure authority was…easy. At first. Months in, the effect lowered inhibitions. They got territorial. Rank, protocol…they couldn't understand. We had to establish dominance. After a while the perks seemed…normal."

"That's _it?_ " Jacob sputtered. "You created a harem and played king? Ten _years_ in a juvenile fantasy?"

"I can't point to where it all went wrong." Ronald said. "But when the beacon was ready, revealing what happened didn't seem like a good plan."

"What happened to the other officers?" Sis asked.

"Anders found his conscience a little too late to step back." Ronald said. "He had an accident. It was…tense. At the end of the day, I was the one with the mechs. I got a little basic in setting examples, but I was kind to my people once things settled down. Seemed like I'd earned some peace."

" _Your people?_ You're not a goddamn king!" Jacob said.

"You knew you were on borrowed time." Sis said. Zaeed has motioned that he and Samara have things covered, and I find myself wandering back towards this conversation. This hellish, hellish conversation. "The stores from the ship couldn't last forever. You had to know this would end one day."

"Dining for one can really stretch things out." Ronald said. "Besides, I can think of worse retirement plans than stripping down and joining the droolers. That was before the hunters, of course. Dumb or not, I'd feel it if they got their hands on me now. They want blood. I'd prefer to keep it."

"It's all about you." Jacob said. "Everything."

"What about family, Taylor?" I asked. "You didn't feel any responsibility to get out of here for the sake of family?"

"I gave him a good start." Ronald said. "He was a smart kid and was better off not following me. We figured that out a long time before I took jobs in deep space. And after things escalated here, it seemed best to just disappear off the galactic map."

Click.

I've drawn my gun and am pointing it directly at his head.

"My father died in the beginning of the Skyllian Blitz." I said. "I'd had dreams of watching baseball games with him in retirement and catching up on all the lost weeks, months and even years that we had to spend in deep space and at work. Do you have any idea what I'd give to have one more day with him?"

"I can only imagine." Taylor said. "But I have to say that I don't see what that has to do with me."

Barely able to control my rage, I lower my gun. What a waste of skin and bones.

"No." I said. "No, I guess you don't."

"We can help these people." Sis said. "Cerberus can have ships here in days. We can pull everyone out."

Jacob pulls his gun and aims it directly at Taylor's face.

"He's not worth the fuel to haul him out, or the air he's breathing. He's damned lucky I don't even think he's worth the energy to pull the trigger." He lowered the gun. "I don't know who you are. Because my father died over ten years ago."

"We'll secure him for an Alliance court." Sis said. "For every year here, he'll have ten to think about it."

"I have a better idea." I said. The others turn to face me. "Let the innocents go. But have the Alliance pick him up…after everyone else has been lifted out of here."

"I'll never last that long!" Ronald said. I wordlessly reach into my holster, and pull out my unused Predator pistol. I eject the heat sink, and then hand it to him.

"You've made it ten years. You can make it a few weeks more."

"You don't understand, none of you!" Ronald said. "I did the best I could!"

Jacob begins to walk away.

"I'm ten years past believing that."

Sis looks at Captain Taylor, shakes her head, and silently walks away. Samara and Zaeed soon follow, sheparding the feral hunters out of the camp. I stay back and look at Ronald Taylor.

"Oh, by the way?" I said. "The gun only has one round in it. Use it however you see fit."

I walked off, leaving the wretched to decide their own fate.

…

Some time later on the Normandy, I was sitting in the mess lounge. It was dead quiet, and even Gardner had decided to pack things in for the night. We'd re-entered the ship with a feeling of having accomplished…something, but whatever it was I wasn't sure. I just know that Sis had looked at me and nodded approvingly before walking off. That was nice.

I was so busy staring into my coffee that I didn't notice the figure take a seat across the table from me.

"How did it go?"

I blinked and looked up.

"About as you would have expected." I said. "I dunno, Miranda. It just left a bad taste in my mouth."

She is silent. I notice that she is dressed in casual fatigues, a far cry from her usual Cerberus outfit. She looks a little more relaxed, though for whatever reason I don't know. She takes a sip of her tea, and then looks back at me.

"I was the one that leaked the information to Jacob in the first place."

I look at her, and blinked once in surprise. Well, not quite surprise but definitely a sense of something close to it.

"Why did you do that? It's, uh, kind of touchy digging into one's past. Especially about one's father." I pointed to myself. "I would know."

Miranda smiles, showing her teeth.

"I have to say that that's the first time I've ever seen you joke about your past, John." She said. But then her smile faded. "There was a time when finding his father mattered to Jacob. Sending it along to him seemed like keeping an old promise." She looked me in the eye. "I keep my promises."

"Well, painful as it might have been, I think that was the right thing to do." I said, sipping my coffee.

Miranda sits there, as if thinking of something to say. And then she does.

"Tell me a story about your father."

"Huh?" I asked.

"A story. About your father. Or your dad, if that's what you preferred to call him."

"What brought this on?" I asked.

"Jacob is the only other man that I've ever really known anywhere near as close as I've come to know you." She said. "And he didn't have a relationship with his father. And you obviously know how things are with my father. I've never really known what it's like to have a _good_ father…and it seemed like you and the Commander had a good father."

I lean back in my chair, thinking. And then it comes to me.

"Okay, I've got one. You know how I love baseball, right?"

"…It had occurred to me."

"Don't be a smartass. Anyway. For the longest time, I wanted to be able to throw a curveball. Or a slider. Problem was, I needed someone who could catch the thing. And I had _no idea_ when to release the ball. Cuz, you see, the key to throwing a breaking ball is the snap of the wrist and releasing the ball at a different moment than a fastball or even a changeup. It's not just hard…it's tricky. So when I was growing up through high school, whenever we hit landfall my dad would catch for me. Here's the problem: dad didn't have shin guards, and the most common way to screw up a curveball is to throw it short…where it'l bounce and smack into the catcher's shins. And it took me _years_ to figure out the curve. It wasn't until I was a senior in high school that I really got it. Dad liked to joke that there were bumps on his shin bones from all the times he'd taken a bouncer right to the leg. I remember once or twice I actually saw him doubling over from pain, and I remember almost crying because I didn't want him to have to keep doing that to himself."

"That sounds awful." Miranda said. "Why did he keep doing that to himself?"

"Because…" I said. And my voice catches in my throat. "…Because eventually I figured it out. And when I was a senior in high school, and pitching for the team and school I was at because of my parents' posting, my curveball was the best on the team. Even if it wasn't the best, it was still good. Because I could _throw it._ And Dad came up to me after a game, and I remember asking him if me being able to throw a curve made all those shin hits worth it. He told me even if I'd never figured out the curve, it'd have been worth it. Because he got to play catch with me. As far as he was concerned, he won either way."

We stayed there in silence. And finally I spoke again.

"I miss him."

Miranda doesn't say anything. But she gets up, and takes a seat next to me. We don't say anything, but just enjoy the soft humming of the ship interior.

A/N: We're getting closer and closer to the end of the loyalty missions, and with it…the end of the story. Of course, there are still a few bumps left on this great journey. Buckle up, my friends.


	45. The Game is Skyllian-Five, Mr Shepard

A/N: I own nothing except the laptop upon which I wrote this story.

There's something that they never tell you in the movies or books about what happens after your "goal" in life gets accomplished. Especially when it comes to matters of revenge or retribution.

Once it's finished, you have no idea what you're supposed to do next.

The day after we returned from Aeia, I had that realization as I was aimlessly wandering through the halls of the Normandy. I wasn't even bothering to be productive, or even all that helpful. I imagined I looked rather intimidating, because there wasn't any unbridled rage or frustration or anything within me. I just sort of felt…restless. I needed something to do, but I wasn't really sure what it was that I needed to do. Just something exciting, I suppose. Sis had begun speaking with the engineers of the Normandy about how to integrate the Reaper IFF into the system, and even though we were still at least a few weeks away from doing it…it was clear that the endgame was coming. Maybe that was why things seemed somewhat hushed onboard; everyone knew that we were in the middle of the calm before the storm.

I blinked as the elevator door opened. My mindless wanderings had taken me from the top of the ship down towards the engine room. Nearby those two engineers…what were their names, again?

"Gabby, have you ever noticed that surly monstrocity that tends to wander around the halls of this ship?"

"Ken, you're going to have to be more specific. There is an Asari Justicar, a Krogan, Vakarian, a Geth infiltrator drone, and Jack that could all feasibly fit the bill."

"No, no. None of them. I'm talking about the big one. The one that looks like he could crush your head in like that fantasy fella."

It occurs to me that neither of them have seen me, and have their backs turned towards me. I lean against the doorway, my morbid curiosity getting the better of me.

" _Ken!_ Are you talking about…"

"Who? Who do you think I'm talking about, love?"

"…Are you talking about the Commander's _brother?_ "

"That's her _brother?_ " Ken said, feigning shock. "I coulda sworn that it was a Krogan wearing a badly mismatching human meat suit in disguise."

Jesus, does Joker tell _everyone_ that line?

"Ken, I wouldn't be making fun of him. You know that he was in a lot of really bad fights."

"So was the commander."

"Not like _that._ "

"Oh, so the fight on the Citadel and bloody _dying_ isn't good enough?"

"No, her brother was on Torfan!"

"Pfft." Ken snorts. "Rough as that may be, doesn't give him the right to act all like he's got the monopoly on dodgy war memories. Bet his sister has trouble sleeping at night way worse than him."

Years ago, comments like these would have made me want to pinch this scrawny Scotsman's neck shut. But I'm kind of enjoying this. They seriously have _no clue_ that I'm right behind them.

"Oh. My. God, Ken. You're going to get us both in _so much trouble._ " Gabby whispered. "You know that Tali is over there, and is one of the Commander's friends!"

"I'm not getting involved in this." Tali said, currently typing away at a console down the hall. "You two kids have fun playing…what is it you humans call it? 'Russian roulette?'"

"It's always troublesome when the Quarian starts accurately nailing our idioms, Gabby."

" _Ken!_ "

Try as I might, I just can't seem to work up any rage towards Ken. It's not like he's a mean-spirited person. He just seems like a doofus. A loveable doofus, but a doofus all the same.

But now it's time to have some fun.

I slowly step forward and walk up right behind Ken as he begins to talk. Gabby makes eye contact with me, and she is so horrified into silence that she does not warn her friend. He's currently typing at his console, oblivious to the two of us.

"All I'm saying is that I bet that fella would be a lot less of a pain and mope if he took that stick out of his arse and started cuttin' back on the sad-sack music I bet he listens to. And maybe find him a girl or two the next time we're on shore leave. Seems a pretty miserable fella, to be honest."

At this, I speak up.

"Well, let's drag him out back and beat the shit out of him!"

Ken, as God is my witness, literally _jumps_ in fright. At least half an inch, maybe a full inch. He whips around to face me, ramrod straight and white as a sheet.

"Oh! Hello, I- _ohdearyourebiggerthanIthought._ " He managed to stammer out. "I wasn't…I mean, I didn't mean-you know how I…well- _Gabby, a little help!_ "

"No, I think you're on your own on this one." Gabby muttered. I smile, and I extend my hand.

"Jonathan Shepard. Formerly of the Alliance. And you are?"

"D-denneth Konnelly-I mean, _Kenneth_ _Donnelly._ " The man stammers out. "P-pleasure to meet you…you have very big hands."

"All the better to crush people's heads in with." I said, keeping a slightly wolfish smile on my face.

"Ooooh, you heard that." Kenneth said. "Gabby, is my last will and testament in order?"

"I think you misspelled 'solicitor' on the most recent draft."

"Gabby, I swear ta Christ I will _haunt ya_." Ken said, regaining some of his nerve. He turns back to face me. "So, um, are you going to kill me?"

"Do you want me to?" I asked.

"Not particularly. I just got a haircut."

"Then I'll spare you. If only to spare the hair." I said. I looked at them, and then at Tali. "Do you three work down here every day?"

"It's not a bad gig." Gabby said. "I'm Gabby Daniels. I work with Miss Zorah over there, and this dumbass here."

"I resent that!"

"So you three are responsible for ejecting the thermal emissions and stuff out the drive core and past where I sleep every night." I said.

"It wasn't our fault that you chose to sleep by the trash compactor."

"Touche." I chuckled. I looked over at the engine readings. "How's she running?"

"Like a dream." Ken said. "We just installed the new FTA couplings, and now we only have to calibrate the system once a week instead of every day." He smirked. "We were actually thinking about celebrating our new-found free time with some Skyllian-Five poker. Wanna join us?"

"So you've gone from insulting me to inviting me to a card game?" I asked.

"I'm Scottish, mate. It's how you resolve differences on the British isles, innit?" He said. I laugh.

"C'mon, Kenneth. The Commander's brother doesn't want to play cards with a pair of grease monkeys like us."

"I didn't get into officer school straightaway like Sis." I said. "I grinded my way through the shock troops and the nitty-gritty stuff. If it wasn't for a grease monkey or two, my units were pretty much fucked." I said. "Sure, I'll play." I look across the room. "You in, Tali?"

"Um…sure! That sounds fun." She said.

"Fantastic!" Kenneth said. "I'll get the cards."

"It's been a few years since I've played Skyllian-Five. You'll go easy on the rookie, right?" I asked.

"Of course!" Ken said. "It's all friendly after all."

…

"So, uh, Mr. Shepard-"

"Call me John."

"John, right. What did you do with the Alliance, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Why would I mind you asking?" I said to Gabby. "Two cards."

"Well if you don't mind-"

"Did spec ops. Wetwork."

"Wetwork?" You doused people with water?"

"Don't be funny, Ken."

"I'm just askin', Gabby!"

"It's not water-related. It's a euphemism. Means spilling blood. Because blood is-"

"…Blood is wet, got it."

"C'mon, Ken. What did you expect him to have done?"

"I dunno, Gabby. Maybe he was workin' the receptionist's desk? Handling recruitments?"

"Would have been a lot less stressful than what I actually ended up doing. That's 200 credits."

"…Guys, what's the first lesson in poker?"

"Oh god, here he goes…"

"What do you mean, Gabby?"

"Just bear with him, Tali…"

"So, as I was sayin' before bein' so _rudely interrupted_ , today's lesson is how to draw a bluff. That much money, this early in the game? I'm saying he's holdin' nothing better than a pair of face cards. What do you think, Tali?"

"Hmm…I'll bite. I'll see your 200 and raise another two."

"That's a handsome bet, love. But gotta be careful, we don't wanna push him too fast. Keep him on the leash."

"While we're on the topic of dog metaphors, I wish I'd brought you a damn muzzle."

"I bet you'd like to have, Gabby."

" _Ken!_ "

"As I was _sayin'_ , keep him honest. I call."

"I'm folding. Something isn't right."

"Fair enough. I see your 200, and raise you 1000."

"…Damn. Glad I folded."

"Well, Tali, you're free to do what you like. It's a lot of money. But I'm staying in. He's tryin' to buy his way out of his bluff. I ain't gonna let him."

"I'm folding."

"So be it! I call your 1000. Spit up the junk, John."

"As you wish, Ken."

"…"

"Ken, you're white as a sheet."

"I don't understand, Gabby. What happened?"

"Well, Tali, I'm sure you know that ace is pretty good…but the four nines is also pretty good."

"Ooo."

"First rule of black ops poker games, Ken: if you _say_ you're the best, you aren't."

"… _Wanker!_ "

…

Ken and Gabby went off somewhere else, with the former ranting and raving about how they got suckered by the "rookie" and how could he have possibly been so stupid as to fall for that stupid, fake lie by the lying liar who lies.

I'm kind of amused by how creatively pathetic his insults are when his dander is up. Poor Gabby seems like she puts up with way too much to have to deal with this guy. I feel bad for her. But all the same, I think she can handle him.

All that remains is Tali and I. We're sitting at the card table, in the middle of that silence that will most likely lead itself to a small degree of small talk. I'm not about to start it, however. I'll let Tali make the first move in that regard. Soon enough, she shifts in her seat slightly and looks at me. She's pensively quiet, but I know that she's just working up the nerve to ask me.

"You know that staring isn't that polite, Tali." I said, feeling a small smirk curling on the edge of my lip. I flit my eyes over to her, and see that she's recoiled with slight embarrassment.

"Keelah, I wasn't staring, I…" She sighed. "Alright, I guess I was staring. You just had a very…stern look on your face."

I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"I was just looking at the cards."

"You know that even when you aren't trying to look serious, you look serious." She said. She paused. "You really are your sister's brother, I guess."

"In what regard?" I asked. "She got the better-looking genes, after all."

"I mean that you're both pretty serious. She's just…pretty good at not being serious. If that makes sense." She looked somewhat flustered. "But she isn't here right now. And I kind of need a Shepard's advice."

Here it comes. She's got all the tell-tale signs of someone who is about to tell you some sort of story that they're hoping you won't freak out at. I figure that it is probably some sort of problem that has an easy resolution. Maybe she needs someone rescued. Maybe something needs to be returned to the Quarian fleet or something. I swivel around in my chair, facing her directly.

"Well, what is it?"

"I got a message from the Quarian fleet. I've been accused of…treason."

…

…Well, _fuck._


End file.
